


Hey Dickhead, Catch!!

by TentacleBubbles



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Action RomCom, Bodyguard AU, Castlevania (Netflix) got them hornee, Guns, Halloween Smut, Hana Misaki - Freeform, Idiots in Love, Kozume Kenma - Freeform, Kuroo Tetsurou - Freeform, M/M, Minor Character Death, More tags to be added, Naoyasu Kuguri, OCs - Freeform, Sawamura Daichi - Freeform - Freeform, Smut, action movie cliches, bodyguard/rockstar au, brief appearances by;, car chase cliche, does this count as crack, god did i really write 10 chapters of this, hinata shouyou - Freeform, i say action movie but there's not much action, its Chapter 9 if that's what you came here for, its certainly a crackship, just these two dudes stuck in a house together, kageyama tobio - Freeform, mainly terushou, minor kuroken, my boi makes an appearance eheh, oc murder, rescue mission cliche, teaching how to shoot a gun cliche, there's hecking in here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-05-12 06:52:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 24,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19223899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TentacleBubbles/pseuds/TentacleBubbles
Summary: Terushima Yuuji, rock star extraordinaire, had accidentally witnessed a murder by infamous mobster boss El Puchicca. Now he finds himself having to hire a bodyguard or risk dying before the court trial that will condemn El Puchicca for good and give Terushima back his freedom. And who can better protect someone than a hired killer?Enter Daishou Suguru, 75 confirmed assassinations, 92 other successful miscellaneous jobs. He's never really done a protection detail before, but there's a first time for everything, and it's not like he hadn't gone against bigger mobsters than little ol’ Puchicca.OrIt's the spy-turned-bodyguard/rock star movie cliché that nobody asked for, with a ship that only about a handful of people has asked for (including me).





	1. 44 Days Until the Trial

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Is anybody still in this tag lmao
> 
> After years of life getting in the way, here I am, with a multichapter fic centered around none other than this goddamn ship! I'm actually kind of proud, this is the second time I finished a multi-chapter fic.
> 
> Also, a bit of a warning, I modelled this a lot after comedy-action movies and romcoms, so while the beginning is quite serious don't expect it to last very long.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy!!!

Terushima Yuuji wasn't quite sure how he ended up by that alley.

He was sure he hadn't drank a lot. He knew that because he felt bummed about being painfully (and savagely) rejected by this super cute chick and left the bar even before he could finish his first beer. It was so unfair too. He'd just had a successful concert not two days ago, and had been having fun in that city since his next gig wasn't until next week. It was rare for his manager to let him take a break that long.

Now Terushima was behind a huge dumpster, the streetlight above him busted. It was coincidentally good camouflage.

In the alley, around a dozen feet in front of him, was a murder in progress. They were close enough to the light on the other side of the alley that Terushima could see the scene all too clearly.

A man in a fancy suit was standing over another guy sitting on the ground, the former pointing a gun at the latter's head. The sitting guy was crying, pleading for his life. His hands were tied behind his back, and one of his legs was bent in an angle that Terushima knew had to hurt like a bitch.

"Please," the man cried out, tears, blood and snot running down his beaten up face, “I told you everything- I didn't steal anything from you. You have to believe me, it wasn't me who took the product it wasn't me, please..."

"Oh, Hiji-kun, it’s not about the product." the man with the gun smirked, gesturing with said gun. "If you hadn't taken half the pay, it wouldn't have mattered. But Hiji-kun, I hate it when money gets taken from me. You know how that feels, right Hiji-kun?"

"No, no, please," Hiji wailed, attempting to back away from the other guy. “Please, El Puchicca, I swear I didn't do it I swear please-"

The man with the gun pulled the trigger.

Terushima jumped in his hiding spot, eyes wide as the gunshot echoed through the alley. He could feel the goose bumps running up and down his arms, on the back of his neck. Suddenly, the street being as deserted as it was made perfect sense.

"Traitors don't get to say my name, Hiji-kun." the man's smirk disappeared, and his face grew more and more furious as he fired shot after shot into poor Hiji's face. The body twitched with every bullet lodged into it, until there was nothing but a repeated _click click click_.

El Puchicca sighed.

"It's annoying being a mob boss these days," he muttered to the quiet alley. He tucked his gun away, pulling out a cigarette pack and a lighter. Running a hand through his gelled up hair, El Puchicca lit a cigarette and let himself relax.

The whole street was empty, save for him and a corpse.

\---

Being manager to rock sensation Terushima Yuuji was no easy feat.

He liked having fun in ways that could most definitely get him in trouble, he liked flashy stuff that can potentially get him in trouble. He liked doing performances with only one band because they were high school buddies and they have no qualms with getting their best friend in trouble with them.

This all meant Hana Misaki was a very busy woman.

She supposed she was lucky enough that as much as Terushima was spontaneous he was also a good kid, when it mattered. Of course, that never stopped him getting in trouble anyway. Trouble that had Hana driving over to the police station in the middle of the night, resisting the urge to grab her phone and get a head start to the huge cleanup she was going to have to do.

She knew her luck was going to run out and Terushima was going to have a huge scandal at some point, so she thought she was more or less prepared.

Hana entered the police station with her head held high, ready to ignore the judgmental, maybe sympathetic looks she knew she'd get from whatever number of officers were still on their shift. A scandal's generally huge, Terushima had just done a concert in the area two days ago and he's easy to recognize. Even police officers tended to gossip.

But as soon as she was inside, Hana realized she was definitely not prepared for whatever scandal Terushima had gotten himself into.

There was only a handful of officers in the room, with most of them at their desks. They were generally trying to seem busy but paying Hana no more attention than they would any normal citizen to walk in there. Hana was starting to worry that she walked into the wrong place. She was starting to wonder if her kid had gotten into so much trouble it was classified, the type that normal police officers weren't privy to.

A door from the other side of the room burst open, a short orange haired kid in a police uniform running straight at an increasingly distraught Hana.

"Are you Hana Misaki-san?" the kid asked, very nearly shouted.

"Hinata! You dumbass!" came an actual shout, this one considerably more pissed. Both Hana and the kid officer turned to look at who shouted, a much taller policeman with a very intimidating face. And he was _approaching_ them.

"Shut up, Kageyama," Hinata stuck his tongue out at him, “I got here first."

"That's not the point!" Kageyama said, ignoring Hana altogether to glare down at Hinata.

As they stood there bickering, Hana looked around worriedly, only to be met with the sympathetic looks she hadn't gotten earlier. Just as she took a step to the side, the two officers stopped mid-shout and turned their very intense attention on her.

Hana wasn't one to be easily intimidated, but these two guys had guns and nobody in the room seem to want to help her. She thought she could let herself be intimidated just a little bit.

"Daichi-san wants to see you," both officers said in unison, glaring at each other while still talking to Hana. “He's waiting in the office. If you'll follow me."

Hana had no choice but to follow the still arguing officers all the way to the door they had burst from. She was extremely grateful to find a much sturdier, nicer looking officer inside, sitting at a desk with her kid – oh her troublesome kid – Terushima sitting on one of the visitor's seats.

"Thank you, Hinata, Kageyama," Nicer Officer sighed wearily, as if having to deal with the two on a daily basis had worn him out too much. Hana can totally relate. “Please go back to work."

Again the two saluted in unison, and glared at each other all the way out of the office. Hana caught Terushima's gaze and felt a new wave of panic surge through her. Why was her kid looking so... _exhausted_? And – was he drinking coffee?

"It’s tea," Nicer Officer assured her when he noticed her staring. “I figured it'll help him calm down. Please, sit down. I'm Chief Inspector Sawamura Daichi. We talked on the phone."

"I don't think I've seen him without so much energy before," Hana commented, sitting beside Terushima. “Are you alright, Terushima?"

"Mn, I'm fine." Terushima gave a weak smile. “I just need a little sleep, I think. Daichi-san told me I can't yet, though."

Hana gave a disapproving glare at Daichi. She can't have her charge be in this sorry state, why isn't he getting his sleep?

"We needed you here first." Daichi held his hands up in a placating gesture. “And I think the tea worked a little too well. But please- Hana-san, I'm only trying to help."

"What trouble did Terushima get into, anyway?" Hana demanded, deciding to go straight to business. “I'd like to get any and all details, please."

"Terushima-san is not in trouble." Daichi shook his head, deeming it safe to put his hands down. “Well, not exactly – I don't know how else to say this. He witnessed a murder."

Hana realized that yes, she was definitely not as prepared as she thought she was for this. But she'll be damned if she wasn't going to try her best.

"Details, sir," Hana asked politely.

\---

He had more or less conked out in his seat while Hana talked to Daichi, but as soon as Terushima fully woke up, he _knew_ he was in some serious trouble.

Daichi kept sending him reassuring-but-also-worried looks as he went in and out the office, carrying papers or talking on the phone. Hana wasn't any better, pacing and calling and texting like her life depended on it. A nice but slightly intimidating officer with a buzz cut brought him coffee and bagels, at least.

Hana ended her latest call with an annoyed huff, pocketing her cell and facing Terushima with a stern expression. Terushima stared up at her innocently, offering her a bagel while he was at it. With a resigned sigh Hana accepted, plopping down on the seat next to Terushima. They ate in silence for a few peaceful minutes

"You weren't stone drunk and hallucinating last night, by any chance?" Hana asked, after finishing off her bagel.

"Nope, didn't even finish half a bottle of beer," Terushima answered. He offered Hana what was left of his coffee and she accepted that, too. Even if he wanted to claim it, the scene replayed all too clearly in his mind, and he can’t possibly just leave it alone like that.

"I don't suppose you wouldn't want to testify about what you saw?" Hana paused to gulp down the caffeine. “Not that Sawamura-san would let you refuse."

"It sounds like something I should do." Terushima shrugged, giving his manager a cheeky grin. “Plus being sole witness to a murder case sounds pretty cool, doesn't it?"

"You're saying that now." Hana laughed weakly. “From here until the trial we can't do any gigs. We had to tell everyone you're going on a suddenly needed break. I can’t even get you some of your clothes – I’ll give you money to buy new ones for now. We can't tell anyone the truth, not even your friends."

It was then that Terushima realized how boring that was gonna be.

"What? But what'll I do then?" Terushima whined. “How long until the trial? Would I have to stay somewhere like in Witness Protection Program or something? I don’t have to quit my job, right?”

“No, of course not.” Hana tried to calm his frantic questioning. “I already talked to Daichi-san. He’ll arrange for the trial to happen as soon as two months- maybe even one and a half. They got to the crime scene pretty fast thanks to you so we’ll have evidence that you’re telling the truth. And you don’t have to quit your job, okay? It’s not like you can, you’re too famous already.”

“Damn right I am.” Terushima grinned at that, then ducked his head slightly. “Thanks, Hana-chan.”

“I’m your manager, it’s my job,” Hana reminded him, smiling all the same. “I’m going to go get more coffee. Do you want anything?”

“Hana-san, please stay for a bit.” Daichi entered the office again, a bunch of papers in hand. He looked especially tired, Terushima thought. “We have to discuss the case.”

“What happened?” Hana asked, frowning.

“We have most things arranged,” Daichi explained. “I’m heading out in ten minutes to put El Puchicca in custody. I’ve been informed that a trial’s being arranged but the earliest they can give me is the first week of November. Until then we have to keep Terushima-kun as safe as humanly possible.”

“Should I invest in some private guards?” Hana suggested. “We can stay in a secret location until the trial.”

“Yes, you should do both.” Daichi nodded. “I would offer to put half the force on his protection detail but unfortunately I don’t trust El Puchicca not to pull something on at least one of my men. I’d suggest taking a guard that has the least connection to the city, to El Puchicca. Someone you think you can trust. That should be okay with you right, Terushima-kun?”

“I guess.” Terushima shrugged and added jokingly, “as long as I don’t die or anything.”

“Let’s hope not.” Daichi smiled weakly, which did nothing to make them feel any better about all this.

“You can stay here until you secure a place to stay and a guard for Terushima-kun,” Daichi continued, giving a polite nod, “just inform Kageyama of where and who before you leave. Don’t tell anybody else.”

“Alright, thank you Sawamura-san.” Hana returned the gesture, hand already grappling for her phone.

Terushima had a feeling it was going to be a long month and a half.

\---

After several more phone calls, Hana announced that she got hold of someone, and he was going to arrive in a couple of hours. When Terushima asked who it was, Hana merely shrugged.

“I don’t really know him personally,” she admitted. “But a close friend of mine recommended him. You remember Mika-chan, right?”

“I think so.” Terushima nodded. “She’s the super cool lady who likes to give us pastries sometimes, right?”

“Yep, that’s the one.” Hana laughed a little. “She used to date this guy who worked freelance in _those_ things, like her. They’re still on good terms, and he agreed to drop by and hear our job offer.”

“Must be a pretty cool guy.” Terushima hummed. “Hey, what do Kazuma and the others know?”

“They seem to have gotten the idea that you somehow ended up in a shotgun wedding in Vegas, and now you’re either on honeymoon or laying low until you can arrange the divorce.” Hana tried not to laugh. “I told them you’d tell the whole ‘awesome’ story only if they don’t say anything to anyone. I didn’t tell them when you would, though.”

“I’d trust those guys with my life,” Terushima very nearly protested, though he was trying not to laugh too. “I probably should just let them keep guessing, yeah.”

A thought occurred to him then. “So what are they going to do without me?”

“Don’t worry, I’m keeping them busy.” Hana assured him. “I’ve arranged for them a couple of minor gigs that’ll give them a bit more time in the spotlight. It’s about time your unofficial band gets more attention.”

They talked more about work and what Hana was planning for Terushima’s ‘huge comeback’ after the trial, until a knock came from the office door and Kageyama peeked in, looking a bit more disgruntled than usual.

“Someone’s looking for you, Hana-san,” he said, sounding like he doesn’t quite trust the ‘someone’ he’s talking about. “He says you sent for him. He called himself ‘Daishou’.”

“Oh, yes I called for him.” Hana stood, nodding at Kageyama. “Please let him in. He’s the guard I hired for Terushima.”

Kageyama nodded tersely, looking like he’s not entirely convinced. He disappeared through the door again, and a few minutes later someone else entered.

The first thought in Terushima’s mind was, _this guy doesn’t look so bad._

Followed by, _actually he looks kind of cute…_

And lastly, _is he aiming a knife at me?_

“Hey dickhead,” the mystery guy smiled, slow and sly and eyes in little slits, “catch.”

Terushima ducked, Hana yelped, and the guy threw the knife at the wall behind Terushima. The guy closed the door behind him, nodding in approval.

“You ducked! That’s good.” he stood opposite Terushima. “This protection detail will be easier than I thought.”

“What the fuck, man?” Terushima exclaimed, shocked and a little pissed.

“Daishou-san! You’re supposed to be protecting him!” Hana, on the other hand, was a _lot_ pissed. “I’m not hiring you to put Terushima in danger!”

“Ah, I’m sorry Hana-san.” Daishou gave a cordial bow, unaffected. “I just wanted to see how fast his reflexes are. It’d help me adjust and protect him better.”

Anger gave way to surprise and confusion, for both the rock star and manager.

“Oh…?” Hana said, unsurely.

“Oh.” Daishou nodded. “I’m not sure Mika-chan told you, but this isn’t my usual gig. I’m positive I can handle it, though.”

“What’s your usual gig?” Terushima asked, frowning in suspicion.

“Hired thief, assassin, whatever else along the same lines. Some people call me a mercenary, even. My name’s Daishou Suguru,” the grin was back, almost feral, “and now I’m your bodyguard.”

 


	2. 43 Days Until the Trial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Safe House

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hey it's the weekend! I was pleasantly surprised to find people interested in this ahahahh,
> 
> I hope you enjoy!!

It was morning by the time Daishou had been briefed, Kageyama and in turn Daichi had been informed of their plans, and Terushima had been told he wasn’t going to have his manager stay with him. He took all of it surprisingly well.

“Bye bye, Hana-chan!” Terushima called cheerfully, a little too cheerful for Daishou’s liking. Don’t get him wrong. It’s not like he didn’t like cheerful people, it’s just that it hardly seemed the time and place.

Hana waved at them as Terushima climbed into Daishou’s car. Kageyama stood beside her, looking a little worried and a lot like he’d rather strangle Daishou than leave Terushima alone with him.

Daishou didn’t care whether it was personal or not (maybe he was a fan?) but he sent a smirk Kageyama’s way, anyway. The look on his face was priceless, and Daishou drove off snickering to himself.

By the time they were out of sight, Terushima had become quiet, and Daishou didn’t question it. Now that he thought about it, the guy probably just wanted to put on a brave face for his manager. It was a lot to take in, witnessing a murder for the first time and all.

It was after more than a couple of hours that he found his voice again.

“So, where are we going?” Terushima asked. “Or am I not supposed to ask?”

“Oh you can ask all you want,” Daishou assured him, “it’s not like I have to answer all the time. But our first priority is, of course, a safe house. We’ll get to one in about another hour.”

“Ooh, you have a safe house?” Terushima leaned forward in his seat, nearly joining Daishou in the front, “is it big? Do you have an Xbox?”

“We’re not going to _my_ safe house.” Daishou scoffed. “I have a… friend. He’ll let us borrow the safe house. It’s closer, and should El Puchicca find us I don’t have to pay for repairs.”

“Hana-chan said we’d cover property damage, though,” Terushima pointed out.

“Doesn’t mean I want my place to be trashed, Yuuji,” Daishou countered, slowly as if talking to a kid.

“Huh, makes sense… I guess?” Terushima sat back, excitement ebbing. “Does your friend have an xbox?”

“I don’t know.” Daishou huffed at his relentlessness.

They spent a few minutes in silence before Terushima found something else to ask.

“So I’m your first protection detail,” he mused, “why’s that? Everyone scared of getting killed?”

“Oh you have no idea how many times I’ve been offered to be a personal guard,” Daishou answered proudly, “but they’re all boring politicians or little mob bosses like Puchicca. I’m not interested in a full time cushion job like that. I like my freelancing.”

“And here I was wondering if you’d want to be _my_ personal guard after the trial.” Terushima laughed despite himself. “So you accepted mine ‘cause it has an expiration date?”

“More or less,” Daishou admitted, “and I wanted to meet the guy who got one over Puchicca of all people. The guy’s not any big outside his city but he’s slippery. Congrats kid, I’m impressed.”

He was met with silence, for a few minutes.

“Thanks, I guess?” Terushima frowned a little. “I dunno about getting ‘one over’ anyone, it feels more like luck.”

“Hey, be proud of your luck,” Daishou told him. “It’s not everyone who gets to witness a mob boss murder someone and survive long enough to get to a trial.”

“We’re not at a trial just yet,” Terushima reminded him.

“As if I won’t do my job,” Daishou reminded _him_.

“Hah, you’re right.” Terushima laughed again, as if to cover his mistake.

Another stilted silence had Daishou uneasy. He wasn’t one for conversation but he didn’t like this kind of quiet even more.

“My turn,” Daishou said. “What’s it like being a rock star?”

“No matter how many times I get asked that, my answer’s still the same.” Terushima gave a self-satisfied sigh. “I get to go around the world, and I get to sing in front of thousands of people. I love it, for the most part. I’m usually really busy but it’s so worth it.”

“I hear you guys are never too busy for sex, though,” Daishou joked, though he didn’t quite expect the interested hum from Terushima.

“Well of course.” he leaned forward again, voice teasing. “Being a rock star’s pretty hot, too, ya know?”

Somehow Daishou was unable to come up with a proper retort, and was forced to just huff instead. Terushima counted this as his win and he laughed, sitting back again.

“Hana-chan’s a bit strict though so it’s not like I get to do that as much as I’d want to,” Terushima amended, “but as long as I get to have fun, I don’t mind.”

“It’s all about fun for you, huh?” Daishou commented.

“Why do something if you don’t enjoy it?” Terushima waved a hand flippantly. “When it stops being fun, I’ll stop singing. But I don’t think that day will come anytime soon.”

Daishou hummed, and changed their conversation again.

“During this protection detail,” Daishou said, “you have to do as I say, when I say, okay? You can’t question it. Even if it sounds weird, or like nonsense, you have to trust that I’m making you do it to protect you. Understand?”

“Yes, sir,” Terushima gave a mock salute, snickering to himself.

“I’m serious,” Daishou warned. “Dying is definitely not fun.”

“What, you’ve tried it?” Terushima had meant it as a joke still, though as soon as he’d said it he realized his mistake. “Ah.”

“It’s a work hazard.” it was Daishou’s turn to wave a dismissive hand. “Like you said, I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t like it.”

“Yeah,” Terushima said quietly, subdued.

This time the silence lasted until they slowed down in front of a row of old houses, some looking nearly abandoned. Terushima looked brimming with inquiries, but he followed Daishou’s rule and didn’t question it. They left the car in an unused alley, behind a trash bin that someone forgot to clean for a couple of years.

“It looks better inside,” Daishou assured him, as they climbed up a fire escape in the very same alley.

The building they were climbing was only three stories high, and the ground floor was boarded up completely. The upper floors didn’t look any better, though there weren’t as much plywood covering the windows.

They climbed in through a third floor window, and much to Terushima’s astonishment, it really did look better inside. Much better, in fact. The outside seemed abandoned and unused, but the inside was a decently sized, two bedroom apartment, completely furnished.

“This is your friend’s safe house?” Terushima asked, not bothering to hide his impressed grin. “Sweet!”

“Yeah, this one is less used, too.” Daishou closed the window behind them. “There are clothes and stuff in the second bedroom, over there. There’s an ‘entryway’ but don’t go there, I think it’s booby trapped. Nobody’s supposed to use the front door.”

“Then what’s downstairs?” Terushima asked curiously, even as he began his exploration of the place.

“Another apartment, but I think it’s in someone else’s name,” Daishou answered, heading straight for the kitchen. “I’ve never been to the ground floor, though. I haven’t figured out how yet. Beer or soda?”

“D’you got any juice?” Terushima emerged from the second bedroom, face scrunched up. “And the clothes here are lame. Is it too late to get Hana-chan to deliver some of my clothes here?”

“Sorry, can’t let anyone know where we’re staying,” Daishou answered, you can almost hear the shrug in his voice. “There’s apple and orange, take your pick.”

“Oh, I like orange.” Terushima sat right on the kitchen counter, kicking his legs like a kid. “Why don’t we buy new ones? Hana-chan gave me money for clothes and stuff.”

“We can’t exactly show up anywhere for the first few weeks.” Daishou handed him the juice box, taking a can of beer for himself.

 The two of them drank their respective drinks in silence.

“Then what are we gonna do for all those weeks?” Terushima asked.

“There’s a bunch of movies in the laptop beneath the bed of the second bedroom, if I remember correctly,” Daishou offered.

Just like that Terushima was off the counter and disappearing into the second bedroom. He only had to wait a couple of minutes before his charge was making noise again.

“There’s a whole folder for Disney!” Terushima cheered, emerging from the bedroom again and heading straight for the fridge. He began piling snack after snack in his arms, topping off the small pile of chips and juice boxes with two tubs of ice cream.

“Want to watch movies with me?” Terushima invited, beaming at Daishou. “I need someone to bring the spoons.”

“As long as we’re not watching Frozen, I don’t mind,” Daishou agreed with a laugh, helping Terushima haul his goods into the second bedroom.

They spent their day going through movies, from Pixar to Disney to whatever else they could find, and slowly eating away the contents of the fridge. The first few movies had Terushima singing along to Once Upon A Dream and Colors of the Wind, and Daishou could definitely see why he became a world famous rock star. But by the sixth movie, Terushima was nodding off. It wasn’t long before Daishou had an armful of uneaten snacks, a bed half covered in empty containers and bags of chips, and a sleepy rock star snuggling into his side.

Daishou tried to wriggle off the bed without disturbing Terushima. The latter just pulled a pillow closer to him, cuddling that instead when Daishou left the bed. The former, however, stood there and wondered if he should clean up or not.

With a sigh, Daishou stooped to pick up at least some of the mess. He felt as if he took a babysitting job instead of a protection detail. But hey, if it meant a really nice pay and seeing an asshole like Puchicca off to jail, he didn’t think he’d mind much.

With the bed clean, Daishou carted off the snacks and trash to the kitchen to sort out. Terushima mumbled in his sleep.

\---

“Daishou-san! Why don’t we have internet?” Terushima complained for the umpteenth time, slumping on the sofa and clicking randomly on the laptop. Daishou put down his novel and sighed.

“So there’s less chances of you posting some dumb shit and the bad guys tracking us down,” he answered, also for the umpteenth time.

“But I promise I’ll be good,” Terushima pleaded, “I just want to look at memes!”

“No is a no,” Daishou said with as much finality as he could.

Terushima sighed and sank further in his seat.

Daishou continued to read.

For a few moments it was silent again. Then–

“We’re almost out of snacks,” Terushima muttered, closing the laptop and curling up on the couch, “and we don’t have decent clothes, and it’s been a week and I’m _so bored.”_

“It’s been literally two days,” Daishou corrected him.

Terushima merely blew a raspberry in his direction.

“Try reading, then,” Daishou suggested, not looking up from his book.

“Got bored,” Terushima refuted.

“The movies?”

“Don’t feel like it.”

“Go doodle or something.”

“Don’t wanna.”

“Make music, isn’t that your job?”

“I’m not feeling inspired. I’m _bored_.”

“Well, what usually makes you feel inspired?”

“Going out and having fun. Or sex. Or having fun with sex.”

“Amazing. Sucks for you. We’re not going anywhere.”

“So you’re not gonna have sex with me?”

“Don’t even joke about that, kid,” Daishou dismissed, shooting down Terushima’s grin with the most deadpan expression he was capable of. Terushima went back to pouting, perhaps this time more intently.

“Is it because I’m wearing ugly old man clothes?”

Daishou closed his book softly and left the living room. Terushima could hear him opening the refrigerator, moving some stuff, and then closing the door a little too harshly. Minutes later, he came back, glaring at Terushima as if he had personally murdered everyone he loved and cared for.

“Did you eat _everything_ in the fridge?” he demanded.

Terushima shrugged. “I get hungry when I’m bored.”

“We’re going to buy food and clothes and absolutely nothing else, got it?” Daishou declared.

“Yes! Yay!” Terushima cheered, propelling off the couch and heading straight for his room to change. Daishou watched him go, face scrunched as if he just tasted something unusual and confusing.

\---

Half an hour later found the two of them in Daishou’s car, on their way to the nearest mall.

“You’re not allowed to leave my side,” Daishou reminded his charge, frowning even when he kept his eyes on the streets. “You’re not allowed to buy anything too attention-catching. You’re not allowed to acknowledge anyone. If you want something bought, I’ll buy it for you. Minimal contact. Don’t even speak if you can help it. If someone recognizes you, pretend you don’t know who they’re talking about. Do _not_ agree to sign autographs. If anyone seems suspicious, even if it’s a dog or a potted plant, you tell me right away. Don’t touch things if you’re not sure what they are. Don’t touch them even if you _are_ sure. Don’t pick too flashy-“

“Daishou-u!” Terushima interrupted, toying with his fuzzy knitted hat. “It’s not like I haven’t gone out in public in secret before. I’ll be fine!”

“You haven’t had people trying to kill you before,” Daishou countered, effectively shutting Terushima up. “Don’t make my job harder than it should be, kid. Or I’ll shoot you myself.”

Terushima huffed, muttering something like ‘I bet we’re the same age’ or something similar. But that wasn’t enough to dampen his spirits for long. Soon he was fidgeting in his seat again, staring out the window as if they would speed up if he just tried thinking hard enough.

When they did get there, Daishou found himself having to keep holding Terushima’s hand so he wouldn’t run off, always so interested in one thing or another.

“Does your manager hold your hand like this whenever you go anywhere?” Daishou complained, tugging Terushima back to his side after passing by a particularly distracting toy store. “Or your friends?”

“Maybe I just like making _you_ hold my hand,” Terushima answered cheekily. A second later his attention was somewhere else.

“It’s a guitar store!”

Daishou was too stunned to stop him, and he was dragged towards the guitar store before he could properly react. By then it was too late, and Terushima was picking up one of the guitars on display.

“I wish I remembered to bring mine with us when we left,” the young man sighed, looking completely at home with the instrument in his hands. Daishou stood by dumbly, wondering how they got to that point.

“Hey, Daishou-san,” Terushima looked pleadingly towards him, hugging the guitar, “you’ll buy it, won’t you? I’ll be less bored if you do! I promise!”

Daishou’s face twisted into a thoughtful frown, and Terushima waited for the verdict. Finally, his guard sighed in defeat.

“Okay, but I better not hear any more complaints the rest of the day.”

Terushima cheered, approaching the counter with his prize. Daishou trailed after him with another sigh for good measure.

At least Terushima stopped running around too much after that, and seemed to be perfectly happy following Daishou’s lead. They did take a while at the clothing stores, though. Terushima was convinced they need a complete change of wardrobe.

“That jacket has way too many stars,” Daishou muttered, putting said jacket back after Terushima handed it for him ‘to try!’

They’d been trapped in the same pattern for a while, though neither seemed to mind. Terushima merely picked another item, and Daishou just put back what he didn’t like.

After that they only had to shop for food. There was a bit of a problem there too.

“Can you even cook anything that doesn’t have ‘instant’ on it?” Daishou complained, staring in dismay at the pile of items in their shopping cart.

“Last I checked, cereal doesn’t count as ‘instant’, does it?” Terushima said, placing a fourth box of cereal in the cart. “I don’t see you putting cooking stuff there either.”

“Because we haven’t used any of the ones back at the place yet,” Daishou pointed out, “and we’re getting meat. We can’t live off of chips and cereal.”

“I got hotdogs! And sausages!” Terushima said in his defense, to which Daishou just scoffed.

“We’re going to die of a heart attack long before any hit-men get to you,” he muttered, pushing the cart away so that Terushima couldn’t chuck another box of cereal into it. Terushima merely shrugged and headed for the ice cream section. Sadly not even Daishou could say no to ice cream.

By the time they got back to their hideout, Terushima was strumming his guitar, happily humming a song Daishou didn’t recognize. Daishou had already hauled some of their groceries out of the car when he found Terushima in the exact same spot.

“I will break that myself if you don’t help me out here,” Daishou warned, resisting the urge to retaliate when Terushima stuck his tongue out at him. But the blond dutifully got out of the car, going up ahead to put his guitar away. He came back halfway down the fire escape and gestured for Daishou to start tossing.

Daishou smirked and tossed the first of many boxes up at him. They’d ask for boxes specifically for this reason; so they could easily toss boxes from one floor to another without having to make multiple trips. Sure, some of the food might get beaten up a little but they saved the more fragile things like bottles and fruits for last, even after the clothes.

They were able to haul everything inside in record time. By the time night had arrived, Daishou was restocking the kitchen and Terushima was in one of the bedrooms, emptying the drawers and replacing the contents with their newly bought clothes.

\---

Terushima entered the kitchen early the next morning, in a loud red and yellow tank top and matching boxers. He found Daishou by the stove, cooking something. Judging by the wonderful smell of bacon filling up the place, it was breakfast.

“Good morning,” Terushima greeted, heading straight for the refrigerator. Daishou grunted in reply, the sound similar to that of a gruff old dog greeting his wayward owner.

The two had breakfast in silence, cleaning up after themselves almost automatically. Daishou settled down on the couch with another book, while Terushima sat on the floor, strumming his guitar idly.

An hour passed. Terushima sang several songs. Daishou got halfway through his book before he let himself be distracted by Terushima’s performance. He pretended to keep reading.

The day went by, slow as molasses.

“Gosh fuck I’m bored,” Terushima muttered, setting aside his guitar. When Daishou didn’t react, Terushima let out a whine in complaint, dragging himself up just so he could flop down on the couch with a _thump_. Daishou sighed but stubbornly kept his gaze on his book.

“Aren’t you supposed to be like, decked out in guns or something?” Terushima asked, looking up at his guard. The way he landed on the couch had his legs dangling off one of the armrests, his head mere inches away from Daishou’s lap. He kept staring at Daishou until the guard became annoyed.

With a resigned sigh, Daishou lowered his book.

“Why would I be decked out in guns?” he said in challenge, raising a brow.

“That’s how it usually is in movies,” Terushima answered, as if it was the most sensible thing.

“We’re not in a movie, though,” Daishou explained, as if talking to a child, “and so unlike in movies, I don’t have to be ‘decked out’.”

“But what if somebody finds us?” Terushima said, as soon as Daishou stopped speaking. He bit back a grin at Daishou’s put off look.

“Nobody’s going to find us,” Daishou assured him.

“So you don’t have any guns?” Terushima said in his most innocent act, and Daishou knew he had been baited.

“Of course I do,” he answered, knowing where the conversation was going.

“Where are they?” came the next question, but thankfully Daishou was prepared.

“Where they have to be,” he said, proud of his witty retort. Terushima gave him a sour look and Daishou grinned smugly. He decidedly went back to his reading.

A few minutes later Daishou made a noise of discomfort, glaring down at Terushima. The latter had inched further into the couch, and made himself quite comfortable with his head right on Daishou’s lap.

“What are you doing now?” he dared ask. Terushima grinned up at him.

“I need a nap,” Terushima answered, unabashed.

“What are you, five?”

“Sure, if you’re into that kind of thing.”

“You are disgusting.”

“Nah, I prefer the term ‘adventurous’.”

“Still disgusting.”

“So you’re one of those vanilla kind of guys? With the roses and the wine?”

“Didn’t say I was.”

“You know you’re pretty fun for a hitman.”

The comment made Daishou pause. He pondered for a moment.

“What makes you say that?”

“The movies always show you guys to be no nonsense types, always polishing your guns and stuff. You’re just a grandpa.”

“You have to stop comparing me and our situation to movies. And what part of ‘grandpa’ is fun?”

“For one thing, I can bug you without getting threatened to get shot. Except that one time.”

“Ah, you’re right. I should threaten to shoot you more.”

“But you won’t.” Terushima smiled knowingly, stretching languidly in his spot still on Daishou’s lap.

“Well, unlike those movie buffoons, I actually want to do my job,” Daishou said, arms raised above him out of the way of Terushima’s outstretched limbs.

Terushima laughed delightedly, much to Daishou’s confusion. He paused mid-stretch, letting his arms dangle over the armrest much like his feet on the other side of the couch.

“You said ‘buffoons’,” Terushima explained.

Daishou snorted, lowering his book on Terushima’s face. He wasn’t any harsh about it, but Terushima still complained.

Eventually they got up to eat lunch, Daishou making stir fry while Terushima experimented with various flavors of juice. The day rolled by like something slow and soft.

 


	3. 40 Days Until the Trial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mika-chan cameo, Monopoly plus Risk equals ??? and some surprise guests near the end

Terushima woke up to the sounds of light conversation and laughter. He groped around for his phone before remembering that it had already been five days since Daishou confiscated it. He rolled out of bed, stretching and yawning his way towards the kitchen, following the faint smell of coffee and some sort of tea.

There he found Daishou, leaning against the counter with a mug in hand. He was joking around with a pretty, long haired woman. Or at least, _she_ was joking around. Daishou looked like he was trying to fight off a bit of embarrassment. Not that Terushima paid him much attention past that, since the woman was someone he knew very well.

“Mika-chan!” Terushima greeted, arms open for a hug. “Nice to see a pretty lady like you here!”

“Hello to you too, Terushima.” Mika accepted the hug, smiling warmly. “I trust Daishou’s been treating you well?”

“He bought me a new guitar, so he’s okay.” Terushima shrugged, grinning at Daishou’s deadpan look.

Mika on the other hand, glanced between them, an amused smile tugged at her lips. She hid it with a sip from her own cup of tea.

“Well, at least he hasn’t poisoned you yet,” she said, laughing when Daishou shouted in protest.

“He’ll poison himself by accident before I ever get to,” Daishou muttered. Terushima stuck his tongue out at him, which he did often. Was it just so he could show off his tongue piercing?

“Aw, Daishou, you’re better than that,” Mika waved her hand nonchalantly, “but as much as I love catching up with you both, I believe I came here for business.”

“I didn’t know you were helping Daishou out,” Terushima commented, making his way to the refrigerator. “Can I stay and listen?”

“I don’t see why not.” Daishou shrugged, reaching up to open one of the cupboards close to him. He brought out a glass, and with a disapproving frown handed it to Terushima. The latter was just about to drink from a large juice carton, but grinned shamelessly and accepted the offered glass.

Mika watched the exchange with some held back judgment.

“It’s better if you do, since this concerns you too,” she agreed belatedly, reaching into the bag she brought with her. She pulled out a folder fairly thick with papers from it. She handed them to Daishou, who put down his mug with some soft grumbling.

“Puchicca’s pulling all the stops, probably because he doesn’t know who the witness is or who’s protecting him,” she began explaining, shaking her head in silent ‘no thanks’ to Terushima’s offer of cereal. “I suppose he doesn’t keep up with the entertainment business, since it’s pretty friggin’ obvious your ‘mysterious vacation’ is exactly right after the murder but, hey, who am I to judge.”

Mika paused, halted by the drops of milk that barely missed her. Terushima was rather sloppily pouring milk into his bowl of cereal. Mika and Daishou exchanged looks at the display.

Clearing her throat, she proceeded. “Ten hired hands, with ten more from his own stash of goons. It doesn’t sound much but they’re all high on the rankings. Well, high enough for a small city guy like Puchicca. Nobody’s supporting Terushima’s claims but nobody’s refuting it either. I talked to Miya about it-”

“Wait, hold on.” Daishou squinted at the papers in his hands, then at Mika. “You asked Miya for help? Which one?”

“Don’t worry, its Osamu-kun for this one.” Mika smiled, smug. “Atsumu’s a dear but he’s too… flashy for now. We might hire him for the trial, however. I’ll see about setting up something between you and one of the twins a few weeks before the trial. Phone ”

“Oh yay,” Daishou muttered with dread, taking a large gulp of his coffee and gesturing for Mika to continue. Terushima, who had sat down at the counter beside Daishou, peered at the papers he was shifting through. He had too much cereal in his mouth to be able to voice any concerns.

“As long as Terushima doesn’t die, we have a solid case,” Mika continue. “Sawamura’s unit has enough evidence to back up Terushima’s statement, as long as we _have_ his statement. And Puchicca’s alibi just fell through.”

“Sounds pretty clean,” Daishou hummed, still flipping through the papers. “He didn’t seem to have hired anyone we should worry about either. Am I right?”

“Maybe one or two from that list,” Mika leaned over the counter, pulling out two particular papers – profiles of hired hitmen. “These two don’t work in the same field we do but they’re nasty in their own right. Murano specializes in bombs while Pendra is a techie. The other eight hired hands are pretty much just their muscle. The ten home goons aren’t any better either, except maybe for Puchicca’s pet, this guy Leroy. He’s pretty much the head of their man-hunt.”

Terushima leaned over to get a better look at the ones Mika pointed out. The one she called Murano had no hair and a very nasty leer, as if nobody told him smiling’s supposed to be a happy action. Pendra, on the other hand, had long, thin looking black hair and a long, thin looking face. Leroy reminded Terushima of El Puchicca, except his hair was too short and curly and he had way more ear piercings.

“Should we move in a few days?” Daishou asked.

“I think, as long as you stay here and limit outside interaction, there’s no need to move until the trial,” Mika told them, nursing her cup of tea. “I can send you a couple of easy-to-do recipes to make your food supply last longer, and you can contact me if you need resupplying. I don’t think you should go on any more shopping trips yourself.”

“Don’t blame me.” Daishou jerked a thumb at his charge, still eating cereal. “He’s annoying.”

“So you say,” Mika said. Finishing her tea, the woman straightened up, closing her bag. She smiled again, bright and friendly. “Well, I gotta go. You boys have fun.”

“See ya ‘round, Mika-chan.” Terushima went around the counter to give her a parting hug, leaning down to let Mika plant a kiss on his forehead. She gave Daishou a hug too, and a kiss on the cheek, before climbing out of the fire escape.

Daishou, with a lingering smile, got a bowl and poured himself some cereal too. Terushima watched him pensively.

“Are you two a thing?” he asked outright.

Daishou froze, a spoonful of soggy cereal halfway to his mouth.

“We were,” he answered, resuming his aborted action.

“Am I allowed to ask for details?”

Daishou shook his head. “No.”

“Aww…”

“We were, and now we’re not.” Daishou gestured with his spoon. “That’s all there is, finish your cereal.”

Terushima obligingly changed the subject, going back to his position behind the counter and in front of his bowl of cereal.

“Oh yeah, so I was poking around the master bedroom.”

“Were you trying to find my ‘guns’?”

“Maybe.” Terushima stepped to the side to avoid the spoon Daishou attempted to hit him with, laughing. “No wait, listen! I didn’t find them, but I did find some board games. Let’s play.”

“Board games?” Daishou scoffed, shaking his head.

“Loser gets to do the dishes.” Terushima grinned. “Unless you’re scared?”

“Scared I’ll make you cry maybe,” Daishou huffed, smiling thinly, “but since you asked for it, prepare to wash dishes for the rest of the week.”

\---

Terushima managed to trap Daishou into playing a game of _Monopoly,_ of all things.

Well _that_ wasn’t going to end anytime soon.

Five hours and three near-bankrupts later the two were starting to feel a bit bored. But neither one wanted to be the one to throw the game. So it continued, sometimes being paused so they could eat or if someone needed to use the bathroom.

Nine hours later it had evolved into a more complicated game, where the two of them had established a slew of new rules. Having found a box of the game Risk, they had taken to trying to take over each other’s properties, sometimes trading and other times just doing all out warfare. As it was, the two of them sat on the living room floor, a mix of Monopoly and Risk pieces splayed out on the board before them in some sort of strategic formation only the two of them understood.

“I’m bored,” Terushima complained, rolling the dice with a sigh. He moved a few paces forward, landing on a railway. Unfortunately it was the one that wasn’t his. “Ah crap, my emperor boarded the wrong train.”

“Then just give up.” Daishou shrugged, smiling slightly. “I use my turn to take your emperor captive. Pay my soldiers to let you go or move your piece to my capital, Boardwalk.”

“Boo.” Terushima frowned but moved his piece accordingly. Just as he was reaching for the dice to see if he had any chance of escape, an idea occurred to him. With a slow smile Terushima sat back.

“I use my turn to romance your dictator, attempting to create a peace between the two ruling empires.”

“That’s against the rules!” Daishou complained, no longer smiling.

Terushima shook his head. “No its not. We already finished making the rules like, seven hours ago. Besides, this’ll end the game quicker.”

“But attempting to make peace means you lose,” Daishou announced, trying a different tactic.

“No it doesn’t,” Terushima refuted smugly. “It means we both win, and we can move on to another game. Why, you gonna attempt to kill my emperor instead?”

“You know what? Fine.” Daishou took both his and Terushima’s ‘leader’ pieces and put one on top of the other. “There! They’re making out and the two empires are united in a peace treaty.”

“Well obviously my emperor would be on top.” Terushima rearranged the pieces, only to have Daishou snatch them from his hands.

“My dictator is obviously the stronger one,” Daishou insisted. “Since _he_ doesn’t need underhanded tactics like seduction to be able to win.”

“First of all its romance, not seduction!” Terushima reached for the pieces again, but Daishou held them out of reach. “And second, your dictator’s the weak one for falling for it anyway!”

“I’m starting to think I ought to protect my innocent dictator from your horrible scheming emperor.” Daishou laughed, leaning back as Terushima leaned forward across the board to try to reach the pieces still in his hands.

“How dare you! They’re in lo- shit-!” Terushima leaned a little too far forward, and when he tried to balance himself his hand slipped on a couple of monopoly bills. He ended up falling on top of Daishou, who couldn’t hold the both of them upright and fell on his back, pieces tumbling out of his hands and somewhere beneath the couch.

The two men stared at each other in surprise, before dissolving into laughter, loud and uncontrollable. This went on for about a minute, until their laughter petered off into a short silence. Terushima stared down at Daishou, grinning.

“I told you I’d top,” he joked, looking way too comfortable in his position.

Daishou smirked. He flipped them with one practiced move, earning a surprised yelp from Terushima. He stared down at him, enjoying the look of shock on his face.

“Who’s topping now, huh?” he challenged. In the back of his mind, he reminded himself of just how ridiculous they were being. How ridiculous they had been the whole day.

“I guess you are.” Terushima laughed breathlessly.

In another second he had his arms wrapped around Daishou, pulling him down into a kiss. It was a tentative, chaste kiss for only a moment, right up until Terushima’s lips parted. And then it was a battle of tongues, Daishou quickly losing to Terushima’s skillful use of his tongue piercing. He was weak to kisses to begin with, so he pulled away before he completely lost himself.

“Why the fuck are we doing _this_ of all things?” he asked, himself or Terushima or both. Terushima didn’t miss a beat.

“Because it’s fun. Come on, fuck me.” he pulled Daishou down again, this time aiming a slew of kisses along his jawline.

The rational part of his brain told Daishou that that was probably the worst possible answer, but that part completely lost the moment Terushima began sucking a hickey onto his neck. With a groan, Daishou’s hand flew downward, pressing against Terushima’s half hard cock through his pants.

“Fuck yeah.” Terushima smirked against Daishou’s neck. Now _this_ was a fun game.

\---

Morning found Terushima and Daishou in bed, a little too tired to move just yet. Part of the night had been spent making out, migrating from the living room to one of the bedrooms sometime after midnight. Soiled clothes traced their path from the Monopoly-Risk game still haphazardly set up in the middle of the living room to the master bedroom.

Amongst the blankets, the two of them cuddled. Well, Terushima cuddled while Daishou struggled to get out of his grip and breathe. Terushima had his arms around Daishou’s torso, whining when he tried wriggling away.

“Nooo.” Terushima refused to even open his eyes yet. “You’re warm and soft.”

“And you’re stinky and naked,” Daishou quipped, increasing his efforts.

“You weren’t complaining about that last night.” Terushima smirked, finally opening his eyes to look at Daishou smugly. The latter rolled his own eyes at him.

“I need my bath, Terushima,” Daishou told him, and the two of them delved into a staring contest. After what felt like several long minutes Terushima released him with a bit of grumbling.

“Can I at least join you?” Terushima called belatedly, sitting up on the bed. He was met with a laugh and a closed door, so he guessed not.

The young man flopped backwards on the bed, arms spread out. It _was_ a little sticky and a lot uncomfortable, and he probably needed a bath of his own. But he felt a bit too cozy to get up and go to the other bathroom just yet. He also felt kind of hungry, but he didn’t want to get food the way he was.

About twenty minutes later his conundrum was solved when Daishou exited the bathroom with only a towel round his waist. He chucked another towel at Terushima, nose turned up at his unimpressive state.

“Take a bath before touching anything else, will you?” he said, rummaging through the drawers for clothes.

Terushima stared at the ceiling for a moment longer before sitting up sluggishly. He dragged himself to the bathroom, fighting back a yawn.

The cold shower woke Terushima up better, and with the discomfort of dried sweat and other bodily fluids finally gone he could give attention to other things. Like his hunger, for example.

Terushima forewent clothes, entering the kitchen in nothing but his bright yellow boxers. Daishou was busy frying eggs but turned around at the sound of him opening the refrigerator. He took one look at Terushima and threatened him with a spatula.

“No. I am not serving you breakfast until you put on more clothes,” he declared.

“Nah.” Terushima grinned cheekily, evading Daishou’s angry swipe of his spatula to check on the eggs. “Don’t burn the eggs, Suguru!”

The hitman grumbled but refrained from trying to hit Terushima again in favor of making sure the eggs were still edible. Terushima sat triumphant on one of the stools on the counter, drinking straight from the juice carton again.

“How hard is it to put on a shirt?” Daishou mumbled, rolling his eyes. He was so close to forgetting that he was babysitting, glad to know Terushima was more than happy to remind him.

“I’ll put mine on if you take yours off,” Terushima suggested.

Daishou glared at him.

“It was worth a shot.” Terushima shrugged, unperturbed.

Their breakfast went along the same vein, companionable and teasing. Terushima even helped Daishou clean up, almost in a hurry. Before Daishou could question it, he had already gone to the living room.

Daishou followed in his trail reluctantly. He half expected to see Terushima frantically picking up the mess they’d left last night, what with his apparent enthusiasm when it came to dishwashing. He was met not with a suddenly-industrious rockstar, however – or perhaps he was?

The mess of games and clothes they’d left in the living room were still there, untouched. Terushima was sitting cross-legged in a corner of the couch, guitar in his lap and a pencil between his lips. A notepad was sitting open on the side table, beside an open bottle of Gatorade. That just spelled trouble, in Daishou’s opinion, but he didn’t bother saying it out loud. He decided to do the clean-up himself instead.

They work mostly in silence. Terushima hummed and murmured half-formed sentences, strumming his guitar and scribbling on the notepad in turns. It didn’t take long for the guard to figure out that his charge was writing a song, something with a distinctly fast beat.

Daishou put away the games in their respective boxes, slow and deliberate and almost bored. He pretended he wasn’t trying to hear the murmured words more clearly, tried not to dwell on the lively thrums of the guitar that spoke of adventures and companionship.

Daishou prepared stir fry for lunch. Terushima went back to his songwriting almost immediately, once again staying only long enough to clean up after himself.

Daishou didn’t want to interrupt his strange bout of concentration, and at first he busied himself with finishing his cleanup. The stack of board games needed to be put away and the clothes and the sheets put in the washer. He tried to take his time again, but eventually he had wandered back to the living room, bringing a book with him in an attempt to distract himself with something other than Terushima.

He thought the _usual_ Terushima was distracting with all his noise and questions and flitting attention. Songwriter Terushima, full of concentration and barely giving attention to anything else, was a different kind of distraction entirely.

When Daishou finally decided to go to bed, Terushima was still busy on the couch.

\---

Daishou woke up to clanging somewhere in the house, and for a moment he thought they were under attack. He had barely sat up when there came a crash, and a string of curses. He had already grabbed a gun when he heard Terushima shouting.

“I’m okay! Everything’s okay!”

Daishou sighed, shoulders falling. He hid away his gun again. Did Terushima really not find the ones hidden around the house? There were at least three just in the living room. Shaking his head at it all, Daishou made his way towards the kitchen, where he thought the sounds came from.

And the strange smell of something sweet and buttery and citrusy all at the same time?

The kitchen was, in a word, a mess. There were cupboards partially open, the counter was littered with utensils, bowls, fruit peelings, cans of whipped cream, a bottle of chocolate syrup, milk and boxes of what looked like pancake mix and cereal. It was kind of a mess, but a part of the counter was cleared.

In that little area that remained clean were two plates stacked with pancakes. On each stack were slices of fruit, bananas, apples, berries, and a large helping of whipped cream topped with chocolate syrup dripping down the sides. Beside each plate was also a bowl of cereal mixed with more fruits. It looked like a sweet tooth’s wet dream.

Terushima was, when Daishou saw him, trying to shove a bunch of pans into one of the open cupboards. He was also stripped down to his boxers, bright red with gold stripes.

“What the hell is this?” Daishou asked, raising a brow but otherwise keeping his amusement to himself. He stepped in far enough to close the nearest cupboard, one filled with small, white, rectangular boxes.

“I made a really good song – I mean, we’d still probably edit it and I haven’t made the parts for the rest of the band yet but I think it’s pretty good,” Terushima explained, pausing to flash Daishou a grin. He managed to wrestle the pans into the cupboard, shutting the doors close. He slowly backed away, hands held up as if the cupboard would burst open and shower him with pots and pans at any moment.

“Sometimes we actually come up with something cool overnight, so we like to celebrate,” Terushima continued his explanation, opening one of the lower cabinets and reaching for a plastic bag. He began clearing the counter, still talking.

“It’s a house rule! Hana-chan lets us do it all the time. Normally we’d order one of those supreme all meat, all cheese pizza and whoever made the song gets to eat a whole box by themselves. But I had to improvise. I made you yours, too!”

“I can see that.” Daishou began helping him, closing more cupboards and stooping down to pick up the trash that somehow ended up on the floor. He was about to say more when a distinctly loud sound coming from the living room stopped him.

The two of them froze. Terushima stared at his guard with wide eyes, not quite fear not quite excitement twitching his brows, his lips.

Daishou narrowed his eyes and carefully set down whatever was in his hands. He signaled for Terushima to stay where he was. When Terushima nodded, he reached under the counter and pulled out a gun.

Terushima bit his lip, face definitely showing excitement. Daishou couldn’t help rolling his eyes at him.

“What the fuck happened to my living room?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, there's supposed to be smut here in the end. Should I move the rating up and include it here? or just put the smut in a separate fic like an extra?


	4. 38 Days Until the Trial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just some visitors...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaah, I was so excited when writing this part! I hope you enjoy!

Daishou flinched at the voice, looking a lot less tense and more annoyed. He gestured again for Terushima to stay put before he stood up, gun in hand but trained downwards. Terushima peered from behind the counter, watching Daishou step towards the door leading to the living room.

He had only taken a few steps when a man appeared at the doorway, rifle pointed right at Daishou. He wore gloves, black fatigues, boots, all battered and dirty. It matched the messy black hair falling over part of his face. It didn’t stop him from looking absolutely displeased by the whole situation, though. A closer look revealed a smaller someone in a dirty lab coat standing behind him, glancing at them with wide golden cat eyes from behind dyed blond hair.

“I’m going to give you ten seconds,” the messy haired man growled out, “to explain why the hell you’re standing in _my_ safe house in _my_ kitchen in _just_ your boxers. And then I’ll blow your head off.”

“Now, Kuroo, I have a perfectly good explanation for this,” Daishou smiled politely, hands raised in the universal sign of surrender, “but it’s going to need more than ten seconds so I suggest we be civilized for once.”

“I think shooting you in the head is a perfectly civilized response to you blowing up two of my safe houses already, plus breaking into my third one. Don’t you?” Kuroo answered, grin a mocking parody of Daishou’s.

“Those were accidents, I told you that,” Daishou reminded him, smile straining. His gaze fell on the man with Kuroo. He gave a short, aborted gesture. “I think you’re making the little kitten there nervous.”

Kuroo glanced down at the person behind him, clutching his shirt like his life depended on it. The young man had begun to shake. Kuroo bit back a weary sigh.

They were both too tired for this.

“Better keep your explanation short then,” he snapped, looking back at Daishou.

“I accepted a protection detail, this is the witness for the El Puchicca Coffin Case,” Daishou tilted his head towards Terushima, who was still crouched behind the counter, only peeking slightly. The rock star was staring at Kuroo with wide eyed admiration, and he waved a little too excitedly.

Kuroo lowered his rifle, considering the situation. He did kind of recognize the guy, they passed by at least one billboard with his name and face on it on the way there. And he _did_ hear about the El Puchicca Coffin Case, everybody had. Daishou could actually be telling the truth. Another urge to sigh passed through him.

“Kenma, stay here with – Terushima, right?” Kuroo glanced at the man behind the counter, who grinned and gave him a thumbs up. “You two stay here in the kitchen. I’m going to have to talk to this asshole. Hey, asshole, let’s go to _my_ living room, shall we?”

“Anything you say.” Daishou smiled thinly, as if he was indulging Kuroo more than anything.

The two of them exited the kitchen, both still holding firearms. Kenma, the small guy in the lab coat, stood at the doorway staring after them, while Terushima stood by the counter, still quite excited. He turned his attention towards Kenma.

“Is he a spy?” he asked, leaning over the counter. Kenma blinked at him, and gave a halfhearted shrug.

Terushima began talking in earnest, but the more he talked the more uncomfortable the guy looked. Eventually he stopped short, and an awkward silence engulfed them.

Terushima looked around for something to do, and realized how much of a mess the counter still was. He picked up the plastic bag again, trying to gather up the trash as fast as he could. He carefully tied the bag up and placed it in a corner, since he had a feeling that it would probably burst if he tried to throw it. He dumped most of the dirty dishes in the sink and began washing his hands.

In that time, Kenma just watched him, less uncomfortable and more curious and wary. He still hadn’t moved from the doorway, but the food caught his attention.

“Wanna eat?” Terushima asked, gesturing with a soapy hand. “Go ahead! I’ll just make more for them later.”

He grabbed some forks, holding one out to Kenma. The guy was still standing by the doorway.

A long second passed.

Kenma shuffled forward, accepting the fork and sitting on one of the stools by the counter. There was still a whole counter between them, but Terushima counted that as progress.

The two of them ate, Terushima enthusiastically digging into his stack of pancakes and fruits, Kenma taking comparably smaller bites.

They pretended not to hear the harsh whispers coming from the living room.

\---

Kuroo was _not_ having a very nice couple of days.

First he found out that he had been employed by a crazy death cult hell bent on starting the apocalypse, was tricked into trying to steal a potential zombie virus from a secure government lab, and almost got blown up in said government lab.

Then, after escaping the lab with said virus _and_ one of the scientists who made it ( _also_ tricked by his colleagues into thinking they were just experimenting on some flu strains) they’ve been chased by _both_ the death cult and the government. They couldn’t stop for _days_ and it had only been twelve hours since they finally lost any and all tails.

And now _this_?

Kuroo needed a drink but he didn’t want to know if Daishou had already raided his liquor cabinet. His _hidden_ liquor cabinet.

“… tried to contact you but you didn’t answer,” Daishou was saying. “Apparently you went off the grid, and who was I to judge? I figured you were either dead or dying. Didn’t think your corpse would mind.”

“My corpse,” Kuroo cut in, patience already thinner than thin, “would have strangled you in your sleep any day of the week. And you _know_ that. You have no excuse.”

“What are you gonna do?” Daishou challenged, raising a brow. “Are you going to throw us out? The moment we step out into the streets we’d be pursued, shot dead in two hours. Of course, _I_ would survive but are you willing to let an innocent, _famous_ rock star die just because you’re territorial?”

“I could throw _you_ in the street,” Kuroo suggested. “It’s true that Terushima never did anything wrong, and he seems to like me already. It’s better than having to room with _you_.”

“It’s not like you _have_ to room with me.” Daishou leaned back, seemingly uncaring. “I happen to know that you have other safe houses. You can just lend us this one, be on your way, we don’t have to share.”

“Are you suggesting you’ll throw _us_ out?” Kuroo mocked.

Daishou shrugged, as if he’s perfectly fine with the idea. Kuroo had to count to ten before he could loosen his grip on the rifle he still carried.

“Look,” he said, expression tired but deadly serious, “not even your slimy ass is going to keep me from sleep. Kenma needs rest, too. We’re staying, whether you like it or not.”

Daishou turned his nose up at him, to hide the fact that Kuroo could still quite intimidate him if he really wanted.

“Well, if you don’t stay for _too_ long, I guess I can endure it,” he said, awkwardly trying to save face. “The hell did you do anyway, to end up looking like an emo zombie soldier? Or is that just how you always look nowadays?”

Kuroo glowered at him. Definitely not the kind of joke he’d like to hear. Ever, if he could help it.

“I’m giving you thirty minutes to get your things out of _my_ room,” he said, standing up with finality.

Daishou watched him walk towards the kitchen, keeping his expression unimpressed in case Kuroo turned around. He debated whether he could get away with trying to find out what Kuroo was busy with or not. He seemed _really_ tired though and the last time Daishou pushed him over the line in that state, he ended up with a bullet in his gut. He probably deserved it, maybe. But he definitely didn’t want a repeat of it.

In the end he decided to move his things to Terushima’s room, discreetly, definitely not jealous of the sounds of Terushima serving pancakes in his usual enthusiastic way. At least with him keeping their surprise guests fed and entertained, the chances of either of them getting shot were also kept down considerably.

\---

‘Rooming’ with Kuroo and Kenma changed their daily routine for a while. Kenma more or less stayed in his and Kuroo’s shared room. Daishou made sure not to be in the same room as Kuroo at any time and vice versa. Terushima was the only one roaming free, so to speak, and had quickly struck a friendship with Kuroo and even Kenma.

This doesn’t bother Daishou at all, of course.

Why would it? Sure, Terushima spent more time with Kuroo now and the three of them played every video game Kuroo had stashed in the place but he’s probably more protected with two guards at his back right? And, Kuroo’s a good fighter, maybe- just _maybe_ even as good as Daishou was, but he’s not better. Daishou can out-guard him any day of the week. Not that he had to, it’s not like Terushima’s paying _Kuroo_ to protect him, right?

There’s no way Kuroo’s smirk was anything but knowing and smug and annoying as _shit_. He and Terushima were on the couch, playing yet another fighting video game, and Terushima didn’t even notice Daishou walk by. Daishou gave Kuroo a very rude gesture and decided to scope the perimeter because fuck them.

When he came back in later, they were playing a different game- a dancing one. Daishou tried _very_ hard not to stare. He was so going to ban shorts from this house.

\---

Daishou was not sulking and stealing all the ice cream in the middle of the night. Not that anyone would notice, too busy hanging out without him or whatever. You would think sharing a room with Terushima would lead to them at least talking more but all Terushima wanted to talk about was Kuroo and Kenma and whatever latest thing they’d done that day.

“I didn’t know you could even do that in Mario Kart,” Terushima crowed, apparently both amused and impressed.

Daishou wasn’t really listening, he was moodily cleaning a gun because that’s what spies do when they’re being moody, not when they want attention from their stupid charge. When Terushima didn’t seem to notice him very obviously stashing the gun in its hiding place, Daishou very sourly excused himself to the kitchen.

Of course, even in the middle of the night, he wasn’t going to catch a break.

Who else but Kenma would catch Daishou in the kitchen, digging into a tub of ice cream? The only light came from Daishou’s phone on the counter, open in some sort of game. Kenma thought he recognized a boyfriend simulator app before Daishou swiped the phone and pocketed it, drenching them in near darkness.

A tense silence flooded the room.

“I just want water.” Kenma was the first to speak, voice soft and words rushed. His tired eyes were darting here and there, avoiding Daishou’s gaze.

“Nobody’s stopping you,” Daishou said, gesturing to the fridge with his spoon.

Kenma nodded, scurrying over to the fridge. He grabbed a water bottle and didn’t bother opening it, opting to just head back to his and Kuroo’s room with it.

Daishou stared at him as he went, expression hidden by the dark. He ended up stuffing an especially large spoonful of ice cream into his mouth.

\---

The next day, for some reason, Terushima sat in the living room with Daishou, Kuroo and Kenma. Plates of slightly burnt bacon courtesy of Terushima was distributed between them.

Terushima insisted that that was how he liked his bacon. Because it was. It really was.

“We’re heading off,” Kuroo announced, cutting right to the chase, “We still have to go somewhere anyway, and I think there’s a high chance now that this place will be bombed by the people chasing us. Here’s to hoping only _you_ die, snakey.”

Terushima couldn’t hide his shock, nor did he want to.

He kind of liked having more people around. They played video games a lot. Kuroo was fun and would let him look at funny videos on the internet, under his supervision of course. Kenma was nice, too. Sometimes he’d leave even though Terushima’s in the middle of talking, but Terushima took that as a challenge to keep his interest. Kenma taught Terushima a lot of new combos and maybe-not-maybe-cheats for some of the video games they both liked.

So no, Terushima didn’t bother hiding his surprise, and he turned to look at Daishou to see if he felt the same. Daishou’s reaction only served to confuse him more.

“You sure know how to make a man feel loved,” Daishou smiled thinly, with bitter sarcasm, “You’ve had plenty of practice with that one though, haven’t you?”

“You would know, you were there,” Kuroo shot back with a sharp grin.

Kenma sighed, as if just watching them was tiring him out. Terushima was still very much confused.

He glanced from Daishou to Kuroo, eyebrows furrowed, mouth curved with held back questions. The two men didn’t seem to notice him, locked in a strange but heated staring match. With another soft huff Kenma pulled Kuroo towards their room. Daishou glared after them, at the same time ignoring any looks Terushima might’ve been directing at him.

About ten minutes later Kenma and Kuroo were hauling their things out of their room. They didn’t have much, a heavy looking backpack each and a duffel bag slung over Kuroo’s shoulder.

Terushima wanted to ask so many questions, mainly ‘what the fuck is happening?’ and he glanced between the three other people there to see who’d be more willing to answer. Perhaps unsurprisingly, it was Kenma who pulled him aside. Kuroo and Daishou were engaged in another conversation consisting entirely of glares and if-looks-could-kill-you’d-be-in-hell.

“Uh,” Kenma began, “so. We’re leaving.”

“Why?” Terushima asked, maybe a bit too petulantly.

“We’re not on vacation, you know,” Kenma pointed out, “we still need to… do stuff. And… you should talk to Daishou.”

“What do you mean?” Terushima was, in his opinion, understandably confused.

“Ask him,” Kenma said, offering nothing more than a shrug.

They left without much else, awkward silence replacing their presence. Daishou managed to slink off to another part of the house, and Terushima let him. Daishou slept in the newly vacant room that night.


	5. 30 Days Until the Trial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> bang bang bich

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pretty short chapter! might fuck around and post the next one mid-week instead of waiting for the weekend, we'll see

The uneasy atmosphere remained and settled in the house for the rest of the next day. Terushima busied himself with trying to write music, and Daishou always found a reason to be in a different room. By the end of it Terushima had had enough.

He decided to try making dinner as a peace offering. But even following the recipe Mika sent them, the result was… not desirable. Terushima threw it away before it had the chance to sour Daishou’s mood any further.

He slumped on the kitchen counter, not knowing what to do. He didn’t _know_ why Daishou was avoiding him, only that he probably had to apologize for something. If it were one of his friends, even Hana, he’d just buy them their favorite kind of pizza and present it to them. In any other circumstance, that’d be a foolproof plan.

This particular circumstance, however, presented several problems. One, he wasn’t allowed to contact anyone, not even to order a measly pizza. Two, he didn’t know what Daishou’s preferred type of pizza was. He didn’t even know if the guy was a pineapple on pizza type of person. He sure _seemed_ like it.

Terushima’s gaze roamed over the kitchen, hoping for inspiration. His eyes landed on a cabinet nearest the door, ever so slightly opened. When Terushima had first gone exploring, there was nothing in that cabinet but small sealed boxes. He hadn’t touched them because Daishou said not to, but Terushima had distinctly seen Kuroo grab a few boxes from there before. He saw Kuroo take out a phone from one of them before he had to run off and pretend he wasn’t trying to spy on a professional spy.

Interest properly piqued, Terushima went to the cabinet to inspect it. Some of the boxes were opened, a few of them empty. But one still had a phone in it. This gave Terushima a very nice idea.

After all, Daishou didn’t say anything about using _someone else’s_ phone, did he?

\---

“Kuro,” Kenma frowned into the open duffel bag in his lap.

“Yeah?” Kuroo was a little busy driving their borrowed car, so he didn’t see Kenma’s expression.

“Did we leave anything behind?” Kenma asked, “You said we packed four extra phones.”

“How many is in there?” Kuroo frowned out into the street, huffing when some annoying driver overtook him. But he was respectfully following the speed limit and couldn’t very well retaliate.

“Only three,” Kenma shuffled through the bag and checked all its pockets again.

“That’s fine, we still have five between the two of us,” Kuroo assured him, “is anyone following us?”

Kenma peered out the back of the car, scanning the cars behind them. It was the fifth time he’d done so in just that hour, and they’d been on the road for at least four hours. None of the cars seemed too familiar.

“No,” Kenma concluded, going back to his current problem, “we needed that extra charger, though.”

“Oh, yeah – damn,” Kuroo risked a glance at his rearview mirror, then back out the road ahead. He felt antsy. They’d done their best to leave no trails to and from the safe house, but it seemed too improbable not to be followed by now.

“D’you think they’ve gotten a trace of us?” Kuroo asked.

“Not likely,” Kenma answered.

Kuroo trusted that answer, he really did. Kenma’s a genius and they’d taken all the precautions they could. But he sped up a little over the speed limit, just a bit. The sooner they could get rid of the virus, research and all, the better he’d feel.

His mind wandered briefly to Daishou and Terushima. Must be nice to only be protecting a single guy from some city-level mob boss and not worry about stopping the apocalypse before it could happen.

\---

“You absolute fucknut!!”

Daishou shoved Terushima into the back of his car, followed by two duffel bags, one of them partially open with some clothes sticking out. He threw another bag at the passenger’s seat before diving into the car himself.

He’d barely left the alley they’d been parked in when their safe house exploded. Daishou couldn’t help wondering how long it would take before Kuroo hunted him down for _that_ one.

“I told you not to contact anyone!” Daishou shouted, sour mood at its peak. He jerked the wheel roughly, making a turn that probably shouldn’t have been that tight.

Terushima wriggled in the backseat until he was sitting a bit more comfortably, pushing at the duffel bags beside him in frustration. He’d forgotten his guitar in their hurry, and that was _apparently_ the least of their problems.

“I was just trying to order pizza!” Terushima whined, unable to help himself.

“You and your dumb cravings are gonna get us killed,” Daishou growled.

Terushima scowled. He’d just about had enough of his guard’s continuing mood.

“It was supposed to be for you, asshole!” he shouted in fury, “because you’ve been avoiding me for some stupid reason! But hey! I got your attention now, don’t I!?”

The both of them could feel the beginning of a tense silence when several gunshots broke it.


	6. 29 Days Until the Trial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Car chase cliche and 'taking you to my actual safehouse that I didn't steal' is a metaphor for opening up, and Terushima is a Disney hoe but only for the time when Disney made good movies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I've decided to just upload everything because I'm gonna be busy with other stuff soon, so yay? Hope you enjoy!

Terushima did not know how to handle a gun. Sure he can hold one, but use it? Big no.

“Just point it out the window at the cars chasing us and fucking shoot!” Daishou instructed, road rage at full blast. He was hunched over the wheel, and the car swerved every now and then.

“It sure _sounds_ easy when you say it like that,” Terushima grumbled, ducking down further with every gunshot that was followed by a _ping_ that he imagined shook the car. He had a pistol held loosely in one hand, pointing up at the roof where he hoped it would do the least damage if he ever accidentally fired it. Which, apparently, was the opposite of what he was supposed to be doing.

There was another gunshot, and the rear window shattered in a shower of glass. Terushima and Daishou cursed in tandem.

“Teru!” Daishou grit his teeth.

“Okay, okay!” Terushima peaked out the rear window – or what’s left of it – only a bit and as fast as he could. Then he raised his hand, gun pointed in a direction he hoped was the right one. He pulled the trigger, hand flying back from the recoil.

“Try a little to your right,” Daishou suggested, voice tense.

Terushima adjusted his grip and did as he was told. Something popped, and he risked another short peak at the tumultuous sounds that followed. Two cars had crashed against each other and was blocking part of the road. Nobody was shooting at them anymore.

“Good.” Daishou muttered, speeding up to get as far away from the wreckage as possible.

\---

The rest of the ride was, in the nicest word available, stiff.

Daishou did not speak. Terushima wanted to speak but felt too many things to pick any words to even try to speak. They were no longer being chased, but it still felt like someone’s about to shoot at them at every turn.

By the time they got out of the city, Terushima deemed it safe enough to put down the gun he was still gripping in his sweaty, shaking hands.

By the time they were entering a forest, with a mountain looming up at them, Terushima felt it safe enough to speak.

“Where are we going?” he asked.

Silence.

Terushima stared at the back of his bodyguard’s head, guilty and annoyed at the same time.

“To my safe house,” Daishou said, finally.

“Okay,” Terushima said.

The car delved into silence all over again.

\---

Daishou hadn’t felt this many feelings in a _very_ long time. He hated it. Hated himself for accepting this stupid job, hating the stupid musician that he was supposed to be protecting. He hated how _scared_ he actually was when they were being chased, even if he had enough experience to handle it. And now they were sitting in silence, worse off than when they first _met_.

Five long minutes stretched with the two of them just sitting in the car, in the garage of Daishou’s safe house. His _well hidden_ safe house, thank you very much.

“Get out.” Daishou could’ve bit his tongue with how harsh he sounded without meaning to. Terushima scrambled out of the car, standing awkwardly by the door. He looked like a kicked puppy, useless, over-used cliché as that was.

Daishou heaved a sigh as he got out of the car.

“Look,” he levelled Terushima with a glare, “what you did was stupid. And I better not catch you doing that again or I swear—”

“I didn’t mean to get us in trouble—” Terushima insisted.

“Don’t interrupt me!” Daishou interrupted, raising his voice just slightly. It was enough to make Terushima glare. Daishou thought that was an improvement.

“I’m trying to _protect_ you,” he said, stressing his words, “I can’t do that if you don’t do what I say.”

Terushima glared for a moment longer, but he gave in and sighed.

“I’m sorry,” he said plaintively.

“Apology accepted,” Daishou said, clapping him on the back. “Let’s get inside. Go get our stuff.”

\---

The two of them went through the motions silently- a strange parody of the first time they had to haul things from car to house. It was a game of parallels from then on.

Daishou’s place was the opposite of Kuroo’s safe house; it was partly underground, had plenty of rooms both in plain sight and hidden away, and it was halfway up a mountain, as opposed to the middle of the city.

Terushima explored haltingly, torn between asking Daishou for a tour and just discovering things for himself. The peace they’d just gained felt too nebulous, whatever it was between them too blurred.

Most importantly, this house felt less like a safe house and more like a real house. The little items like old magazines, dog-eared books, knick knacks and what looked to be vacation souvenirs all made the rooms more lived in. Within five minutes, Terushima found a guest bedroom that was obviously no longer a guest bedroom, items strewn about casually. There was a jacket hung over a chair by the study table, and a small stack of books on the night stand. He didn’t spend long enough in the room to see any more.

The kitchen had three different kinds of coffeemakers, all labelled with masking tape and marker. One had ‘GENERAL’ written on it and the other two ‘Saki’ and ‘Numai’.

Most telling of all, was when Terushima found the master bedroom. Aside from the odd clothing or bullet clip left lying on the floor, there were picture frames on the dresser. Only a few, but just the fact that they existed was telling.

Did it feel like he was intruding by just looking at these pictures? You bet. Was Terushima going to look at them anyway? Of course.

Almost all the pictures had Daishou in it, with two or more people. One was of him with a whole group of six or so people, Mika included. She was the only one Terushima recognized. He wondered if they were together when the picture was taken.

There was also one of Daishou with a redhead and a much older guy, the latter the only one smiling at the camera. Which one was Numai? Or Saki? Were they even in any of the pictures?

Terushima reached for one of the group pictures, then paused just as his fingers brushed the frame. He turned around, wincing at the sight of Daishou leaning against the doorframe.

“So you _do_ have instincts,” Daishou said with a smirk, entering the room. “Whatcha looking at, rock star?”

“Who are these guys?” Terushima asked, immediately at ease and jumping on the opportunity to ask.

Daishou hummed as he approached, looking over the pictures with an emotion Terushima couldn’t read. Daishou was silent for long enough that he thought maybe he _shouldn’t_ have asked, but then his guard leaned forward and pointed to one of the people in the pictures.

Daishou spoke, and Terushima listened.

\---

“Is this really how I’m supposed to do this?”

“What, you haven’t done this before? Didn’t you have that one music video where you—”

“That was fake! This isn’t!”

Daishou scoffed, holding Terushima firmly in place.

“Brace yourself, and aim for at least around the target. Fire on my signal,” he suggested, stepping back.

Terushima rolled his eyes but otherwise didn’t move. He looked back at the target- a crudely drawn silhouette of a person on a piece of old plywood propped against a tree- and waited for Daishou’s signal.

“Okay, go.”

Even with the silencer, the sound of the gun was enough to disturb a creature or two in the woods. Terushima was mildly surprised, he thought they’d all run off the first hour that they had been out there. He looked towards where he thought a rabbit had gone off to, and thought about trying to find it.

“You hit him in the eye, that’s great!” Daishou’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts, and he bounded over to where his bodyguard was inspecting the target. They exchanged grins as Terushima approached.

“And it only took you a few days, good for you,” Daishou added, holding a hand out. “Let’s go take a break.”

“Just a bit more?” Terushima pleaded. Now that he’d actually started hitting the target it was beginning to get fun.

“We stay out here ‘a bit more’ and someone’s gonna find us,” Daishou pointed out, leading him by the arm back inside. His grip wasn’t harsh, but it wasn’t gentle either. “Come on, I’ll make you hot cocoa or something. You deserve it.”

“Wait really?” That definitely made Terushima more agreeable. “With marshmallows?”

Daishou barked out a laugh. “Of course.” he nodded, shushing Terushima when he cheered and whooped loud enough to startle some birds.

They did make some hot chocolate drinks once they were back inside, after the guns had been put away and themselves cleaned. Unfortunately they didn’t have marshmallows small enough to add to the drinks. That didn’t stop Terushima from still eating them, of course.

\---

“Bet you can’t stuff more than fifteen of these in your mouth,” Daishou dared, somehow making the act of squishing a marshmallow between his fingers taunting.

“What do I get when I win?” Terushima asked, all too ready to be dared.

“ _If_ you win, you mean,” Daishou corrected him, amused despite himself. “If you win, I’ll let you pick the next game we play.”

“You’re on!” Terushima said gamely, grabbing the pack of marshmallows. He easily stuffed one after the other into his mouth, Daishou taking the liberty of keeping count for him. He started slowing after the eighth. He valiantly got to marshmallow number 13, cheeks stuffed and red-faced, barely being able to close his mouth.

“You okay there?” Daishou asked, smirking when Terushima tried to give him a dark look. With that many marshmallows in his face, he looked more like a constipated hamster. He pushed fourteen, groaning as his hubris caught up to him.

“Last one!” Daishou spurred him on, taking a little too much delight in the whine that followed his words. “Or are you giving up, Yuuji?”

Terushima’s eyes widened and watered, and Daishou sat up in alarm. His charge choked, slapping a hand on his mouth and running over to the sink. Daishou followed after him, wincing as Terushima hacked and coughed. Fifteen might’ve been too much after all.

“Sorry, too much?” he patted Terushima lightly on the back.

“No, I’m–” Terushima coughed again, holding a hand up while turning the tap with the other. Daishou waited patiently as he got his breathing under control, drinking water straight from the tap like the heathen that he was.

“I don’t think death by marshmallow is the way you want to go,” Daishou joked, at least attempting to sound sympathetic.

“Hey, you were,” Terushima coughed, grinning despite it, “the one who dared me!”

“I wasn’t the one who stuffed the marshmallows into your mouth, was I?”

“Well if _that’s_ what you wanted you should’ve just said so!” Terushima grinned wider. “My safeword’s puch–”

“Shut up!” Daishou shrieked, shoving him away with a laugh.

Terushima looked extremely smug despite almost kissing the sink. He straightened, wiping his mouth with his shirt. He gave Daishou a dumb grin, and he was struck with a realization.

In that moment, that one stupid moment where he stared at Terushima with his face and shirt drenched in water, some leaves still in his hair, and that stupid, goofy, cute fucking grin. It was that moment that Daishou’s heart skipped a beat, and in the resulting silence his mind screamed at him.

He’s in love with the dumbass.

Terushima had already turned and left the room. Presumably to go look for a towel – or maybe a clean shirt, he certainly needed one or the other. Daishou leaned against the sink, blankly staring after him in barely concealed shock.

It can’t be true, can it? Barely a month with the guy and suddenly he’s having _feelings_? Sure he’s hot and fun, and the sex was great, and he can be really nice and understanding and even smart when he needed to be and oh no Daishou’s really in love with him.

“Hey.” Terushima poked his head back in the kitchen, entirely oblivious to Daishou’s crisis. “Do you wanna do another movie marathon? We can watch Green Lantern if you promise we’ll watch Treasure Planet, too.”

“Uh.” Daishou blinked at him, shoving his shock aside and attempting to act normal. What the fuck was normal? How long had he even had feelings for Terushima? Was he obvious? Did Terushima notice?

No, he can’t have noticed. He’s too dumb, and he’d have said something if he did. It’s fine, everything’s fine. Just act natural, he can figure it out later.

“Actually, I think I’m going to go,” Daishou paused, floundering already, “hunting.” Oh no, love had made _him_ a dumbass now, too.

“Hunting?” Terushima asked, understandably confused. Daishou decided to roll with the excuse, unable to think of a better one.

“It’s not like we can go shopping in the mountains.” He pointed out. “I’ll show you how to skin a rabbit, if you want.”

Terushima scrunched his nose at the thought. “No thanks,” he said. “Sounds gross.”

“You’re gross,” Daishou scoffed.

“Hey, shut up!” Terushima laughed, unoffended.

“Just saying.” Daishou shrugged, finally moving from his spot. He made a shooing motion at Terushima as they left the kitchen. “Now run along, go watch your dumb Disney movies.”

“They’re classics and you _know_ it.” Terushima stuck his tongue out at him.

Daishou didn’t bother answering, partly because he was too busy not remembering how that tongue piercing felt against his skin just the night before.

“Keep everything locked. Stay inside. Don’t wait up,” he said instead, heading out with a hunting rifle and some feelings to unpack.


	7. 24 Days Until the Trial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feelings just be like that sometimes

The first day, when Terushima woke up with no Daishou anywhere in the house, he’d just assumed he was still gone hunting. Terushima didn’t actually know how long hunting was supposed to take, but he figured Daishou will come back before noon.

The second day that his bodyguard was gone, Terushima was _sure_ something was definitely wrong. He ended up spending the day thinking of worse and worse scenarios. What if he’d been kidnapped? What if he got mauled by a bear? Eaten by a pack of wolves? What if a tree fell on him and since he’s alone in the mountains nobody can hear him and he might as well have not made a sound?

The only thing stopping him from going out there and looking for Daishou himself was the fact that Daishou told him to stay put. He’d brought his phone with him, so surely his bodyguard would’ve contacted him if he needed help? Would he even _ask_ for help? Terushima knew he can be a prideful, especially when it came to stuff like this.

Which was ridiculous, because Daishou should’ve known by then that he can rely on Terushima sometimes, too. Sure, Daishou was literally being paid to guard and protect him, but he wanted to be able to guard and protect the guy, too!

This line of thinking naturally brought Terushima to an epiphany at four in the morning on the third day. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, or the high levels of stress, but the idea that he’d perhaps fallen in love with his bodyguard suddenly seemed so obviously right.

He liked Daishou. Like, really, _really_ like him. He was smart and cool and funny and _fun,_ and he was cute without knowing it and he had really nice hair. It might’ve been farfetched, but the thought of seeing Daishou even after all this witness protection business is done with made Terushima feel all giddy and gooey warm inside.

That is, if they could even _survive_ this stupid, overrated witness protection business. Which brought Terushima back full circle, wanting to both trust in Daishou and his orders _and_ storm out into the woods looking for him.

He’d just about made up his mind to risk looking for him when he heard the front door open. With the living room’s set up, Terushima had his back turned from the door and he was half obscured by the couch. The moment he heard the sound he’d ducked and hid, head and heart pounding in tandem.

Was it Daishou? An enemy? Why were they so quiet? Was it a _bear_?

“…Hello?” someone who definitely wasn’t Daishou said, sounding like he’d really rather be anywhere else but there. “Hnn. Guy’s probably hiding… Daishou sent me?”

Terushima could hear the mystery person walking, the sound of his footsteps clear enough that he’s pretty sure the guy’s being deliberately loud. Did Daishou really send him? Why? What if he was lying? Was this some kind of scare tactic?

He could hear a door swing open, the creaking almost ominous. Terushima didn’t dare move, not even to scratch the increasingly annoying itch on his nose oh god don’t think about sneezing, _don’t think about sneezing._

Where was Daishou? Why would he send some stranger instead? Why didn’t they think up of some stupid plan in case something like this happened? For someone so smart, Daishou could be so dumb sometimes. Terushima still loved him, though.

Holding back a sneeze, he found himself in both physical and emotional pain.

Wait shit, was _that_ why Daishou disappeared and sent a replacement? Did he figure out Terushima’s feelings before he did and decided he didn’t like him back? But that didn’t make sense, they were getting along great up until the marshmallow challenge. And, he may be stupid, but Terushima didn’t think Daishou would leave him for losing a _marshmallow challenge_ of all things.

“Oh cool, he kept my jacket.” The mystery person’s voice interrupted Terushima’s thoughts again, from somewhere to his left. One of the guest rooms, maybe? Why would he have a jacket from here? Was he telling the truth?

“Still can’t find him…” the person sighed, like, super loudly. He also sounded closer. “Ugh. Do I _have_ to do this? Maybe, I’ll just tell him I tried, then I can go home. Hm, yeah. Hey, Teru-dude? Are you even in here?”

The entire time, the person’s tone barely changed, and he sounded so tired Terushima almost felt it himself. But – maybe he _is_ one of Daishou’s friends. Like Kuroo or Mika. They were pretty cool, weren’t they? And they helped! Maybe this guy could at least let Terushima give Daishou a message.

Decision made, Terushima stood up slowly, remembering the last time he accidentally spooked Kuroo and almost got shot. Twice. He cleared his throat, and maybe snorted a little because his nose was _still_ itchy.

“Uhm! Hello,” he said, catching the person’s attention. And really, once he actually _saw_ who it was he realized he recognized him. The red-haired bed-head was in a few of Daishou’s pictures, and more of Daishou’s stories.

He looked a little older, of course. And he wore mismatched pieces of tactical gear over jeans and a hoodie, along with a duffel bag that was surely filled with weapons and maybe spare clothes. Completing the look was, of course, a rifle in his hands.

“You’re… Kuguri, right?” he asked, for clarification, though Terushima’s more than sure by the time the person had walked up to him. It took a little more time than expected.

Kuguri nodded, face impassive bordering on bored. “You know me. I found you,” he said flatly. “Good hiding place, but probably only works once. Anyway, that’s mission one complete. Mission two; a nap.”

He turned, presumably to go back to the guest room for said mission. That is, if Terushima would’ve let him. Which he didn’t, he still needed answers.

“Wait, where’s Daishou?” he asked, definitely _not_ a little desperate at that point.

“Hmm, vacation?” Kuguri paused in his turning, glancing at the bedroom door longingly before looking back at Terushima. “No, that’s code Nut. He sent me… code Meg. He got caught by the bad guys.”

“He got _what?!”_ Terushima shrieked, despite himself. Kuguri actually winced, annoyance leaking through his features.

“Got caught by the bad guys.” Kuguri repeated, possibly sounding more tired than before. “Y’know, whoever’s hunting _you_ down, I guess. I’d have rescued him if he sent code Bud… but he probably sent that to someone else. Maybe.”

“Maybe?” Terushima whined, finding himself worrying even more with this new information.

His mind raced with possibilities and worst case scenarios. Suddenly he was back in that dark, smelly alley, watching a mob boss empty a gun on some poor asshole. Except this time it was Daishou getting shot to bits, and Terushima still just stood there stupidly.

“We gotta rescue him!” he declared, stopping Kuguri from once again reaching his destination.

Kuguri heaved a sigh. “I’m supposed to protect you. That’s what I owe him. I don’t wanna do any more.”

“You can protect me while I rescue him, then,” Terushima said with a huff. The guy seriously needed more energy, how the heck is he a mercenary like this?

“That’s.” Kuguri frowned, momentarily confused. “No.”

“You can’t stop me,” Terushima bluffed. “Daishou taught me enough.”

“No he didn’t,” Kuguri countered, doubtful.

“He did, too.”

“He would’ve taught you how to defend yourself, maybe,” Kuguri conceded. “But not anything else.”

“You don’t know what we’ve been doing this whole time!” Terushima pointed out.

“Hm, knowing Daishou? Board games and books.”

“I mean other than that.”

“…fucking?”

“I – “ Terushima faltered. How the hell did he guess that?

Kuguri looked just as shocked as he was. “Wait, you mean you two –“

“That’s not the point!” Terushima insisted. “He’s in trouble! Who knows what the bad guys are doing to him by now! We don’t even know how long he’s been in their clutches!”

“Oh.” Kuguri scrunched his nose, like he was about to sneeze or yawn but thought better of it. “I got his text about… three days ago? They most probably took him to the nearest empty warehouse at the base of the mountain. So, 48 hours, at least?”

Terushima took a deep breath, hands clasped together in mock prayer. “That does _not_ make me feel better.”

“Hm? I didn’t say it would.” Kuguri shrugged. “If he’s not dead by now he’d be dead by the time we get to him.”

“Are you hearing yourself right now?” Terushima cried in disbelief, voice possibly very high pitched. “I thought you’re like, one of his close buddies! Heck, maybe I should just call Kuroo. He’s more likely to help than you!”

Something decidedly more hostile passed through Kuguri’s expression, brief but enough for Terushima to consider backtracking.

“I’m keeping _you_ safe.” Kuguri said with conviction. “It’s what he asked me to do. It’s what I’m going to do. _And_ I’m going to take a nap.”

Terushima watched helplessly as he closed the bedroom door with more force than he’d seen from the man in the short time he’d known him. It wasn’t a lot, the door only made a soft thud as it closed, but his point still stood.

\---

It was not even a whole half hour later that Terushima succeeded in making Kuguri emerge from his room.

To be fair, the first five minutes was spent pacing the living room and absorbing what Kuguri had said and all that it implied. But he’d already spent paragraphs agonizing over all of that, he didn’t want to waste more time than necessary.

The next twenty-five minutes were spent very loudly, very busily preparing himself to go rescue Daishou himself. He was leaving either way, but if he could annoy the mercenary friend enough to come with him, it’d be a plus. He had just discovered where Daishou hid a bazooka when Kuguri finally appeared, sighing.

They stared at each other for a hot minute.

“Look, I got what you said,” Terushima spoke first, standing up from where he was crouched under the kitchen sink. “And I guess some of what I said kind of sucked, so sorry for that. But I can’t just –“

“Yeah.” Kuguri interrupted him, sighing again. It might’ve been wishful thinking, but Terushima thought he sounded amused. “Yeah I get it, too. We’ll go. We’ll see if he hasn’t escaped by himself yet.”

“Really?” Terushima brightened slightly. “What made you change your mind?”

“Ehh.” Kuguri shrugged. “I was tired. Now I’m… less tired. I already agreed, didn’t I?”

“Right.” Terushima nodded slowly, still somehow wary. “Okay, so how do we find him? Where do we start?”

“We start with…” Kuguri paused, looking about himself. “Where’s my phone?”

A few awkward minutes were spent shuffling around, looking for Kuguri’s phone. Once that was done, they sat in the living room. Kuguri was drinking from a juice box while calling someone. Terushima, who had drank all the juice in his own juice box, was chewing on the straw in mild agitation and maybe excitement.

 _“Hello?”_ Someone said, only just loud enough for Terushima to hear. He stopped chewing on his straw in an attempt to be quieter.

“Hey, Saki.” Kuguri didn’t seem bothered at all with how Terushima very visibly leaned closer. He took that as permission to eavesdrop. And he remembered Saki! Or, at least, remembered hearing about them from Daishou’s stories.

_“Kuguri! So did you check out Daishou’s code Meg? Is it true?”_

Now that’s the third time that code was mentioned. What did it mean? Who was Meg? Or maybe it’s an acronym? Terushima decided he definitely had to ask Daishou about it later.

“Yeah.”

_“Dammit. I owe Numai fifty.”_

Another familiar name, for Terushima. And a funny coincidence, since he too had a friend named Numai. There was even a few short minutes when he thought maybe _his_ Numai was a secret spy.

“Yeah.”

_“Did you need something else?”_

“Yeah… we’re rescuing Daishou.”

_“Wait, really? The first time ‘Shou uses code Meg and you’re ignoring it?”_

Terushima was seriously wondering what the heck code Meg was.

“I’m not… I’m going with Teru.”

Terushima grinned at the nickname. Did that mean they were friends? Maybe Kuguri wasn’t as much of a sourpuss as he thought!

_“That’s dumb.”_

“…maybe.”

_“But it’ll piss off Daishou, I’m game. Whatcha need me to do?”_

“Just his location… And where he keeps the car keys.”

_“Easy enough. I’ll send it to you.”_

“…thanks.”

_“Yeah, you owe me now. I gotta go. Say hi to his Hercules for me!”_

“Mh… Goodbye.” Kuguri ended the call right then and there, opening the texts he’d received right after. Terushima managed to stay quiet for a whole minute before he blurted out the first of his questions.

“What did they mean by ‘Hercules’? Who’s Hercules? Another secret agent? Are they going to help us rescue Daishou?”

Kuguri ignored him, scanning the texts as if committing them to memory. Maybe that _was_ what he was doing. Terushima was about to repeat his questions when Kuguri sighed.

“No. It’s… probably nothing,” he said with a slow shrug. “Ask Daishou.”

“Okay, that’s fair,” Terushima agreed with a nod. “So what’s the plan? How do we get to him? Also, what the fuck _is_ code Meg? Is it an acronym?”

Kuguri scrunched his nose again, this time actually sneezing.

“Bless you.”

“Thanks…” Kuguri stood, slow and deliberate. “We’re gonna… rescue Daishou. Right… Let’s go.”

He walked off, presumably to get weapons and grappling hooks and whatever one needed to go rescue someone from a warehouse full of mob people. Terushima was just about to follow him when he remembered something.

“Kuguri! Can I bring the bazooka?”

Kuguri paused halfway into one of the guest rooms.

“…I guess.”


	8. 20 days Until the Trial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rescue Mission! Save me from my feelings... and these goons, I guess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaaaa I've never mass updated before it feels so odd

Okay so Daishou was _slightly_ annoyed. Just slightly, of course. Did he have to take it out on these stupid goons? Maybe not. Did he do it anyway?

Maybe so.

Backtracking a little; he was having a nice walk in the woods, turning things over and over in his head.

He liked Terushima. In the sexual sense, yes but also in the very, _very_ romantic sense. The kind of sense that made him wonder what it would be like to spend Christmas with the guy. The kind that very briefly made him consider quitting the merc scene. Only briefly, love might have made him dumb but it didn’t make him stupid _._

Daishou might’ve spent too much time thinking and walking, because he’d ended up quite far away from his safe-house by the time he’d come to terms with his feelings and what he should do with them. This whole love thing was making him way too unaware, the sun was already setting for pete’s sake!

As soon as he was aware of that, though, he also became aware that he was being followed. He spotted at least five in his peripheral vision as he walked. Unfortunately he’d already emptied his rifle at a rabbit earlier in frustration. The rabbit got away, too.

It was getting dark enough that he knew he didn’t have much time before he got jumped – even less once he took out his phone to send an SOS. Was anyone close enough that he can send code Bud and expect help on time?

He tried to remember who had what assignment amongst his small group of friends, all the while pretending he’s still obliviously walking ‘round the woods. He knew Kuguri was closest, but even then he was still a day or so away, and he was never the fastest amongst them. He’ll still send the SOS to everyone, but Kuguri will most likely be the only one who can respond.

Plus, there’s still Terushima.

He was Daishou’s top priority, feelings or no feelings. He needed to keep the guy safe, even more so now that his motivation wasn’t just money and spite. Now it was money, spite and _love._ And oh, people do crazy things when they’re in love, don’t they?

By the time Daishou had sent the text, three more goons made their presence known, making that eight bad guys he’d have to face against with an empty rifle. He’d had worse odds before.

He, at least, definitely went down swinging.

\---

Now he’s here, tied up in a chair in some abandoned warehouse at the base of the mountain where he’d hidden his safe-house. It had been four days since he had been guard-napped. Four days since Puchicca’s goons had begun trying to torture him for information.

They were such amateurs that Daishou almost felt insulted. Four days and all they had to show for it were some shallow stab wounds, a split lip, bruised ribs, _maybe_ a broken bone.

To be fair, there wasn’t a lot of things that can make a mercenary give up their assignment. There were even fewer things that can make _this_ particular mercenary give up _this_ particular assignment. Also in their defense, Puchicca didn’t even bother hiring a professional torturer, and his personal guy Leroy hadn’t arrived yet. At least they were smart enough to keep away from his jaws so he can actually talk.

Not that he was saying what they wanted to hear, that is.

“All I’m saying is, investing in stocks is a pretty smart move,” he said with as much a shrug as he could do given his less than ideal sitting position.

“And all _I’m_ saying is shut. Up.” This morning’s torturer, Murano, growled out.

“I thought you wanted me to speak?”

“We want _information._ ” The bomber held up a knife to his face, like _that_ was supposed to be intimidating. “If you don’t give me something soon, I might just gut you before Leroy gets here.”

Daishou sighed, completely unbothered. Well, he had to hold back a wince as his ribs protested the act but Murano didn’t need to know that.

“Fine, fine,” he said. “You want information?”

Morano looked so goddamn pleased with himself and his intimidation tactics Daishou almost felt bad. Okay that was a lie, he didn’t feel bad at all.

“The truth is…” Daishou glanced around, as if making sure they were alone. They weren’t, really, since the ‘room’ they were in was just three walls of huge crates stacked on top of the other. There’s just… conveniently placed crates everywhere, like a cliché early 2000s gangster anime. So surely, there’s at least _some_ goons within hearing distance.

“… I’m lactose intolerant,” Daishou finished his sentence, deadpan.

Even after Murano punched him in the face – damn, he thought his face would last longer than that – he still managed to snicker.

“Careful with the jaws,” he reminded him anyway. “I need this to talk, remember?”

Murano growled, picking up the knife from where he’d thrown it in rage. When he turned to face Daishou again, his self-satisfied leering was back.

“But you don’t need eyes to talk, do you?” he asked, succeeding in making Daishou nervous for the first time. “Maybe that’ll teach you not to be so cheeky, huh?”

“Don’t be so hasty,” someone else said before Daishou could.

They both turned to find another person in their crate room – the hired techie, Pendra. He was frowning at his tablet, looking back up to frown at Murano instead. It’s been obvious since the first day that there was no love lost between these two.

“If you stab him wrong you might kill him,” Pendra said, thankfully much smarter than the bomber.

“Hey, I know how to take out someone’s eye, okay?” Murano pointed the knife in Pendra’s direction. “And I don’t see _you_ making any effort with him.” He gestured to Daishou with the knife, nearly nicking his nose. Did nobody taught him that waving a knife around was unsafe?

“Leroy wanted to interrogate him, not me,” Pendra pointed out, going back to frowning and fiddling with his tablet.

“Leroy’s a bitch.” Murano grunted, tossing the knife back on the stupid crate he used as a table. “What’s taking him so long then?”

“Probably avoiding the shitty wi-fi,” Pendra muttered. He looked up with a despairing sigh. “Why did we have to be stuck in the stupid mountainside? This is a rural nightmare.”

Daishou didn’t _physically_ move, but he was definitely settling down for the show. These two griped and complained and eventually shouted at each other regularly, almost always forgetting that Daishou’s even _there_.

It happened often enough that he had gained a shitload of dirt on not just them, but Leroy, Puchicca and about three other minor crooks that were unfortunate enough to hire them. All just by staying quiet and listening to them.

“Look, you don’t have to waste your time with this guy,” Pendra was saying, in the middle of an argument about unpaid labor. “Leroy’s going to get here in a few hours then we just have to wait ‘till he gets the location out of him.”

Daishou bit back an annoyed curse. Well, that’s not good news. Even if these two were idiots, Leroy was enough of an asshole to make things very painful for him. It was about time he escaped, anyway.

“How much is El Puchicca promising to pay you, anyway?” Daishou asked, reminding the other two that he was in the ‘room’ with them. They looked at him almost as if spooked. Did they really _forget_ that he was there?

“That doesn’t concern you.” Pendra huffed, stiffening.

“What, he didn’t even tell you?” Daishou asked, voice dripping with sympathy. “That’s just like him, isn’t he?”

“He promised us he’d give what we demanded,” Murano said, sounding like he’d said it plenty of times before. Like he’d been trying to convince himself or Pendra.

This was too easy, really.

“And you just took him at his word?” Daishou raised a brow, pretending very hard that he expected more from them and hoping that it showed.

“It’s _El_ _Puchicca_ , of course we did,” Pendra said, miffed.

“What, you think if you refused he’d be able to touch you?” Daishou scoffed. “He’s already in jail, and he’s got enough enemies where he’s going that there’s no chance for him to ever come back out.”

“You don’t know that,” Pendra countered. “The trial’s less than a month away, _and_ we’re going to kill the bird you’re protecting before he gets the chance to sing.”

Daishou brushed aside the threat with some difficulty. Suddenly violence felt really appealing.

“What makes you so sure?” he asked, instead. “Leroy? He doesn’t care if you get paid or die, just as long as his boss gets free. You’ve met him, you know what I’m talking about.”

“He has a point,” Murano said with a shrug.

“No – shut up.” Pendra sent him a glare, before putting his attention back on Daishou. “You’re just trying to get in our heads. I’m not stupid, you know.”

Highly debatable, Daishou was sure.

He shrugged. “Hey, I was just asking, it’s not like I can get out of here by myself, can I?”

“I don’t know, _can_ you?” Pendra said, completely rhetorical.

“Wait, can he?” Murano said, except he was actually unsure.

Before he could move to check the ropes, conveniently placing him between Daishou’s very solid chair and the very solid wall, the entire warehouse’s power went out and they were drenched in darkness.

“What the _fuck_ –“

“That wasn’t me I swear!”

“Who said that? Shit – nobody move!”

“I can’t move, I’m tied up.”

“That doesn’t mean shit! I _will_ fire blind if I hear anybody move.”

“Pendra, why the fuck do you have a gun?”

“Because I’m not stu –“

He was interrupted by something – a soft _thwip_ of a sound followed by the unmistakable thud of a body falling, and then there was silence again.

“What the fuck. Pendra?”

Daishou could hear Murano step away, before the same sounds came from somewhere _way_ too close to him for comfort. Daishou stayed quiet, mind racing with possibilities.

Who the fuck is this? A new enemy? An ally?

“Daishou!”

Nobody can prove that he shrieked, so for all intents and purposes Daishou did _not_ shriek. At least until he finds out that Terushima recorded it.

Either way, that didn’t change the fact that _Terushima_ was the one to have saved him. He would recognize that voice anywhere, _that_ was a revelation he’d had four days ago.

“What the actual _fuck_ are you doing here?”

“Duh, I’m rescuing you!” Yep, definitely him. “Don’t move, I’m untying you right now.”

“Where’s Kuguri? Did you give him the slip somehow?” Daishou asked, accepting the jacket Terushima wrapped around his shoulders. He was glad for the dark now, because he was too obviously blushing at the moment.

Terushima had the audacity to laugh, ruining it. “Me? Give any of your friends the slip? Nah, he came with me.”

“He _what._ ” Daishou stood, rubbing his sore arms and stretching his legs. He was going to have to reevaluate a certain friendship. Maybe he’ll revoke coffeemaker privileges.

 “Who do you think sniped all those dudes? I just shut the power off.” Terushima grabbed his hands, making Daishou stutter and forget whatever he was going to reply.

“Here, Kuguri said you’d want this.” The familiar cold metal of a gun was pressed into his hands, something in him shriveling up a little. Okay, this is fine. He wasn’t expecting anything like a heartfelt confession in the dark, no doubt surrounded by dead bodies.

“I’m assuming Kuguri taught you how to cut the power?” he asked, once he’d pulled away from Terushima to check that he can actually use the gun handed to him. It was a Glock, easy enough to carry in one hand.

Terushima laughed again, taking his free hand and making his heart skip a beat. “Nah, I learned that one from my friends,” he said as he led them out of the crate room and into the crate hallway.

They made their careful way out of the back of the warehouse. Once they got out of the crate maze, it was easy to navigate, since the bad guys never bothered to cover the huge, broken windows and holes that the warehouse had. The warehouse itself was probably only standing through the force of god and some well-placed crates.

Terushima was once again in a focused silence, trusting Daishou to watch his back as they made their way across abandoned warehouse property. It wasn’t until they got to the edge of the woods that Daishou realized he was probably avoiding looking at the dead bodies littering the property.

He gave Terushima’s hand a squeeze, and they exchange small, almost sheepish grins. Neither of them let go.

They got to where they’d stashed Daishou’s car, Kuguri emerging from the trees with his sniper gun a few minutes later. Terushima let go of Daishou’s hand to help Kuguri put the equipment away, or maybe bother him with excited questions about it or even both. Daishou leaned against the side of the car with a groan. The warehouse was still clearly visible from where they were.

“You look like shit.” Kuguri commented. This made Terushima actually _look_ at him, most likely realizing Daishou had been tortured now that the adrenaline was gone.

“Oh, shit,” he said, fretting. “Fuck, man, why didn’t you say so sooner? We have a first aid kit here right?”

He dived for the back of the car again. Kuguri just stared after him and yawned.

“It’s fine, Teru, they’re just shallow wounds,” Daishou assured him, smiling despite himself. Yeah so he had a couple of stab wounds, but they’d already stopped bleeding a few hours ago. He’d probably need something more than a jacket, though. October in the mountains was _chilly._

“Oh.”

Daishou turned at Kuguri’s voice, making a sound in question. Kuguri was looking towards the direction of the warehouse, shifting to acknowledge Daishou’s unspoken question.

“A car just pulled up,” he explained, gesturing vaguely towards the warehouse. “Must be Leroy. Can’t… see properly.”

Daishou squinted, trying to see what Kuguri had spotted. Some guys were rushing into the warehouse.

“Hey Kuguri, can I put this down somewhere for a bit? I can’t get to the first aid kit behind it.”

The two of them turned to find Terushima holding a rocket launcher. Daishou made a sound of surprise, moving to get well away from its line of fire. Kuguri also stepped aside, albeit much slower than he did.

“Teru,” Daishou said slowly, staring at the thing. Just _how_ did they find it?

“I love you but _why_ did you bring a bazooka?”

Kuguri snorted, but it was drowned out by the rocket launcher _firing._

In stunned silence, the three of them watched as it hit one of the cars, causing an explosion big enough to topple one of the warehouse’s walls. This in turn made the whole place crumble and fall, unable to stand the strain.

“That… yeah.” Kuguri stared for a second longer before turning and making his way to the car. “We should go.”

“We are not done talking about _any_ of this,” Daishou promised, hauling ass and dragging Terushima towards the car as well.

They made a speedy exit, not taking any time to see the aftermath of their little stunt. It was mostly just fire, anyway.

\---

The car ride was bumpy, as most treks up a mountain tended to be. It was spent mostly in silence, Daishou finding the spare phone he kept in the glove compartment. Terushima hadn’t tried apologizing for the rocket launcher thing, which Daishou thought was out of character. But he was patient, and also busy berating whoever amongst his friends had told Kuguri where to find his car keys.

“Daishou?” Terushima spoke up then, and Daishou grunted in acknowledgement, still typing away at his phone. Apparently that wasn’t enough, because Terushima’s voice became insistent. “Daishou. Shou. _Suguru_.”

Daishou looked up sharply, blinking at him. Terushima was _definitely_ blushing, but he met his gaze head on.

“Did you mean what you said?” he asked. At Daishou’s blank look, he huffed. “When I – you asked – Before I accidentally fired the bazooka, I mean. You said you…”

Daishou frowned, thinking about what he’d said. He was just asking why –

“Oh.” He said, and now _he’s_ definitely blushing. “Uhm. Well, I did. I guess I could’ve been more romantic about it but –”

“Me too.” Terushima interrupted, blushing harder but grinning like an idiot. “I love you, too.”

Daishou found out that blushing grins could be infectious, but he couldn't find it in himself to complain.

“If you make out,” Kuguri piped up, “I’m recording it.”

“Oh, fuck off!” Daishou said at the same time Terushima said “Just one kiss?”

"...fine."

Terushima's cheer drowned out Daishou's complaints, but then Terushima was pulling him into a kiss. The both of them shut up pretty fast after that.

 


	9. 14 days Until the Trial - Halloween Smut Special

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Halloween! Time to fuck

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So hey! Cliche Smut Chapter! it might not be good, it is actually very corny in some parts but I hope you enjoy anyway!

“It’s Halloween!!”

Terushima cheered, flopping down on the couch. Daishou looked up from the book he was reading, eyebrows raised at his boyfriend. He was holding a bowl of dry cereal, no milk in sight.

“Breakfast for dinner, huh? Got any special plans?” he teased. “Are you going to go trick or treating?”

“Will you let me?” Terushima challenged, though something in his earnest expression betrayed his hope.

“Nope,” Daishou said, with no remorse.

Terushima huffed, but he expected as much.

“I was hoping we could play Riskopoly again, actually,” he admitted. “Get a new story going, y’know, maybe keep my emperor away from your dictator’s filthy hands for once.”

“Hey, it was _your_ emperor that seduced _my_ innocent dictator, let’s not forget that.” Daishou set his book aside, knowing he won’t be reading much for the rest of the day. “How about a movie marathon? I got Saki to give me Kuguri’s Netflix account.”

“Are we literally going to Netflix and Chill, ‘Shou?” Terushima teased, waggling his eyebrows. Daishou rolled his eyes at him, standing up.

“You can just say if you don’t want to,” he said with an exaggerated sigh.

“No, no I take it back!” Terushima immediately stood, abandoning his cereal on the coffee table. “We can Netflix and Chill! C’mon _babe_.”

He reached for Daishou’s hand, yelping when it was Daishou who pulled him towards him. They ended up pressed flush against each other, Daishou’s other hand wrapped around his waist.

“I didn’t know we were doing pet names now,” Daishou said, smirking slow and sly. “ _Babe.”_

Terushima stuttered, red from the tips of his ears down to his neck, torn between embarrassment and absolute delight. Daishou laughed, and it went straight to his heart, then down to his groin.

“If we’re doing a marathon we’d need snacks,” he said, suddenly letting Terushima go and stepping back. “I’ll get us set up, you grab everything chocolate flavored in the kitchen.”

“Uh… right.” Terushima blinked, heading for the kitchen in a daze. He didn’t take much, since they didn’t really _have_ much when it came to chocolate things.

When he came back to the living room, Daishou had pushed the couch back and laid out blankets and pillows on the floor. Something was playing on the TV, and he’d claimed Terushima’s bowl of cereal for himself. The lights were closed, but the light from the television was enough to see with.

“What is _that_?” Terushima asked, dumping the pile of snacks between them as he situated himself in the blanket pile.

“Castlevania,” Daishou answered, rooting through the pile until he found the bag of chocolate covered popcorn. “It’s got vampires and shit, good for Halloween.”

“No cheesy old horror movie then?” Terushima smirked. “Don’t want to make out to Anabelle?”

“No thank you.” Daishou stuck his tongue out at him, not looking at the bag of popcorn he was emptying into the cereal bowl. He paused, horrified. “Oh no. What have you done to me?”

“Aw, I thought it was cute,” Terushima said.

“Narcissist.”

“Didn’t you know? All famous singers have to be. It’s in the job description.”

“What a lucrative business.”

“You said it, babe.”

Daishou laughed again, giving Terushima a sidelong look. “You make me sound like some kind of groupie.”

“You want something more romantic?” Terushima asked, leaning towards him. “Sweetheart? Sweet pea? Sweetums? Sweet potato?”

“I’m sensing a theme here,” Daishou said mockingly, pretending he wasn’t very obviously affected.

“Sugarplum? Angel? My little peanut?” Terushima forged on, voice getting wobbly with mirth. “My apple pie? Cherry cake? Strawberry milk?”

“Why are you– ” Daishou snorted, unable to contain his laughter. “Why are you just naming food now?”

“Cause baby you’re my milkshake,” Terushima sing-songed, and they dissolved into laughter. Castlevania played on in the background.

A character shouted and caught their attention as their laughter petered out, and they settled down together to actually watch the show.

\---

It wasn’t until they were a few episodes in that either of them spoke past idle commentary.

“Ooh, we should do that,” Terushima said, gesturing to the scene before them. The shirtless vampire had gotten the upper hand over the beefy hunter, and was holding him by the hair.

“You like hair pulling?” Daishou asked, with mild interest.

Terushima shrugged. “Not if I’m the one doing the pulling, I think.”

“Oh so you’re the beefy hunter in this scenario then?” Daishou sat up a bit, paying just a bit more attention to Terushima than the show. He wasn’t missing much – and he’d never admit it, but this wasn’t the first… or third time he’d watched this series.

Terushima laughed, still half focused on the show. “You’re the sexy vampire, then.”

Daishou hummed, neither agreeing nor denying. The scene changed, though he couldn’t care less. Terushima caught him staring, and, with a slight smirk, shifted until he was lying down. Daishou moved the snacks aside absently as he watched Terushima place his head right in his lap.

“Sypha has a really cool accent,” Terushima said then, as if they’ve moved on to other topics. But Daishou, he’s still a little occupied.

It started out simple enough. It wasn’t the first time he ran his hand through Terushima’s hair. It was softer than it looked, and with how long they’d been in house arrest it had gotten pretty long, brown roots beginning to show.

Terushima hummed in approval, or encouragement.

Then, Daishou pulled a little harder with each run, almost massaging his scalp. Terushima shifted again, making Daishou’s shorts ride up his thighs until he could feel the guy’s breath on his skin.

“Yuuji,” Daishou murmured, halfway between a warning and a question.

Terushima looked up at him, the light of the TV casting shadows that danced with the mischief in his grin. He shifted again, slow and deliberate and holding Daishou’s gaze as if daring him to look away.

“Suguru,” Terushima said, teasing and inviting and challenging all the same.

Daishou followed his lead, raising his hips so Terushima could tug his shorts down, his boxers not bothering to hide his opinion about the situation. In the back of his mind, he knew that the situation was that Terushima was about to blow him while a bunch of vampires bickering served as their background music.

Then Terushima was pulling his boxers out of the way and Daishou forgot to care about what their background music was.

Terushima was taking his sweet time, tongue tracing patterns up and down Daishou’s length. His tongue piercing was a hard contrast to his soft, _soft_ tongue, driving Daishou’s mind insane. Terushima paused, lips at the tip of his dick like a kiss, eyes trained up at him, narrowed.

“Mh.”

It took him a second to figure out what the look was for. Daishou murmured an apology, even as the corners of his mouth quirked up, even as he ran a hand through Terushima’s hair once, twice. Then he pulled, just enough of a tug to urge him to take Daishou’s cock in his mouth and _suck._

With a gasp that turned halfway to a moan, Daishou tightened his grip in Terushima’s hair. In turn, Terushima took him in as far as he could, and then he was gone.

This wasn’t the first time they’d had sex, of course. It wasn’t the first time Daishou lost himself to the feeling of Terushima’s hot, warm mouth all over him. Not the first time Terushima dared to hum one of his songs while going down on him, every vibration searing a tune that boiled in his gut until Daishou was left gasping his name.

But it was the first time that, as Terushima licked his lips like a goddamn heathen, he grinned up at Daishou and whispered giddily, “I love you.”

Daishou snorted, maneuvering them so he could kiss him. “I love you, too,” he said, and he couldn’t help grinning himself.

“Can I fuck you?” Terushima asked, and it was a testament to his love that Daishou didn’t deflate at all at the bluntness. He’s pretty sure he _perked up_ a little, in fact.

“I don’t know, _can_ you?” he challenged, smirking.

Terushima seemed to take the hint, pouncing on him like an enthusiastic dog.

The two of them tumbled to the bedroom, TV forgotten.

Crawling naked into Daishou’s bed was not new, either. Wrestling interrupted by the occasional need to touch and kiss was a heated ritual, the agreed upon outcome doing nothing to relieve the adrenaline fueled fire of the struggle.

Terushima would grab his wrists, distract him with a bite at the nape of his neck, and settle his legs round Daishou’s hips as if claiming him. Daishou, ever so _flexible,_ kept slipping from Terushima’s grip, laughing as he pushed Terushima down on his stomach.

“You can do it, rock star,” Daishou encouraged.

Terushima growled, twisting fast enough to catch Daishou off guard. He flipped their positions, grinding down on Daishou and keeping him pinned to the bed.

“ _Caught you_ ,” Terushima whispered lowly, pressing a hand between Daishou’s thighs in a delicious squeeze when he made an admittedly weak attempt at struggling.

Daishou grunted, feeling himself twitch in Terushima’s hand. He’d try to shove him off, really, but Terushima’s skin was searing hot coals draped heavily over him, and right now he just _really_ wanted him.

With a breathless laugh, Daishou rolled his hips as best he could, thrusting into Terushima’s loose hold.

“Guess you did, rock star.”

\---

“Holy shit,” Terushima’s words drifted between them, lyrics to the tune of Daishou’s halting gasps. He peeked at him through his fingers, questioning.

“You’re gorgeous as fuck,” he explained, punctuating his words by curling the fingers he currently had inside Daishou. The latter choked out a moan, his other hand releasing the sheets he’d been gripping in favor of clasping his mouth shut.

“Noo, please.” Terushima somehow managed to hit the line between begging and teasing, leaning closer as he spread his fingers and stretched Daishou out further. “Let me hear you sing, Suguru.”

Daishou groaned, shakily bringing his hand down to grip the sheets again. He squirmed and moaned as Terushima worked in a third finger, playing him like the chords of his stupid guitar.

“Shit, yes, that’s perfect,” Terushima praised. “You’re perfect, ‘Shou.”

Daishou hid his face in his hands, feeling his face overheat. He felt Terushima pull his fingers out of him, but didn’t dare look. Terushima pulled his hands away anyway, intertwining their fingers like the sap that he was. He met Daishou’s gaze, barely moving, afraid that if he did he’d shatter the tender moment.

“I really love you,” he said, and Daishou felt like he was gonna explode.

He managed a soft smile, untangling a hand and cupping Terushima’s face. “I really love you, too,” he said, pulling him into a kiss. When he pulled away, Terushima looked just as flushed as he felt. “Fuck me already, Yuuji.”

Terushima laughed, soft and gasping, but obliged. He entered Daishou carefully, eagerly, almost _fervent._ They cursed in tandem, both feeling like they’re melting into each other. Terushima slipped inside him, every inch a star inside him being born. Once he was flushed against him, skin to slick, skin shaking with need and want, they locked eyes, burning, burning like a thousand stars coalescing.

A heavy, half lidded pause, an impatient breath, then –

Terushima gave a thrust, short and _not enough_.

Daishou whined, a warning.

Terushima, ever the gentleman, gave him what he want.

Daishou closed his eyes against the onslaught of sensations, only succeeding in intensifying the feelings thrumming, ramming inside him. Each frantic, ardent thrust was a galaxy exploding inside him, the fire building and building and building like an avalanche waiting to happen.

Their breaths mingled, unintelligible sounds interspersed with the naked _smack,_ and _squelch_ of thighs meeting thighs, a symphony of something ever just out of reach.

Daishou could feel himself grasping for it, a desperation driving him to the edges of the universe they created, an infinity enclosed within each thrust and kiss and bite. Terushima felt it too, he knew. He knew it in the way he grunted, moaned into the crook of his neck, knew it in the way he breathed him in like a man starved for air.

Terushima shifted, like a key locking into place, and Daishou met each thrust as a cliff-side met each crashing wave of a storm determined to bring it crumbling.

He almost missed it in the wild, frenzied haze of sex, the words Terushima muttered over and over until they were sweet molasses spreading and coating him in all their sticky, delightful glory.

_I love you_

Terushima gasped between each syllable, eyes closed and mouth hanging open, lips glistening with spit that Daishou ached to wipe away with his own.

_I love you_

As if sensing him staring, Terushima opened his eyes, a brilliant, rich brown that was dark and deep and drowning him, drowning _in_ him.

_I love you_

Their universe erupted, throwing Daishou clean off its edge, stealing his breath. He was being raised high into the stormy heavens and being swept away by the avalanche that finally found its completion.

Falling felt more like floating, when they were done, a pile of heaving breaths and shaky limbs. Terushima pulled out of him gently, and they rearranged themselves on the bed.

Newborn stars huddled together in the vastness of space destroyed and recreated, their limbs tangled lightly, staring at each other like it was the first time they’d ever seen a miracle before them. Both of them thinking the same thing.

_How did I managed to fall for this sweet-ass dick?_


	10. Day After the Trial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Happily Ever After Cliche! And a brief message from our sponsors-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeet!

“Official reports say that El Puchicca was found dead in his cell this morning…”

The TV was at its lowest possible volume without being completely mute, but the reporter’s voice could be heard all the way from the kitchen. Terushima went through his morning ritual quietly, feeling odd.

He was back in his apartment, completely safe and empty. Hana and his band-mates were planning to throw a welcome back party for him later that night, and he was under strict orders to rest and relax for the rest of the day. It was driving him a little nuts.

He brought his breakfast to the living room, switching the channel a few times before going to Netflix. He was in the middle of rewatching Castlevania – and remembering certain associated memories – when his front door slammed open.

He was halfway through the motions of throwing his cereal bowl in that general direction when he saw just _who_ it was that had assaulted his door.

“Shou!” He exclaimed, happy and relieved and putting down the bowl in favor of pouncing on his boyfriend.

“Hey, Teru,” Daishou greeted, catching him with a laugh. “Missed me much?”

“I didn’t see you yesterday,” Terushima pointed out, pulling away with a frown. “And you didn’t even say where you were going.”

“Just tying up loose ends, nothing important,” Daishou assured him.

Terushima thought back to the morning’s news report. “Wait, you didn’t –”

“What? Nah,” Daishou shook his head. “That was all him.”

Terushima raised a brow, doubtful.

“No really!” Daishou insisted, averting his gaze in guilt – or embarrassment. “I was just prepping for our date, I promise!”

“Oh come on, Shou,” Terushima said, not yet registering the rest of what he said. “I mean it’s kinda messed up but I wouldn’t be _mad_  about it if you –”

He blinked, the idea dawning on him.

“Oh.”

Daishou laughed, a little too high pitched to be called relaxed. “Yeah.”

“ _Oh.”_

“What, you don’t want to?”

“You dick, of course I do!” Terushima grinned, punching the air in excitement. He pulled Daishou into a quick kiss, disappearing to his room just a second afterwards. “Let me get some pants!”

Daishou laughed again, softer and warmer and more disgustingly in love.

“Where are we going again?” Terushima peaked from his room, only visible from his head to his bare shoulders. Daishou distinctly, happily remembered what he did to those shoulders just a week ago.

“Oh, uh,” he focused on Terushima’s face, scrunching his nose at the knowing look his boyfriend was giving him. “Just a restaurant.”

Terushima raised a brow at him again, still doubtful.

“Okay so it’s not fancy or high end,” Daishou admitted. “But it’s good! Went there plenty of times before. You’ll love it.”

Terushima looked at him for a second longer before disappearing into his room again.

\---

As it turned out, Daishou was saying the truth. He had decided to bring them to a small family restaurant an hour or two away, cozy and old and with most of the staff recognizing Daishou on sight. They nodded and smiled briefly at him, before moving on with whatever they were doing. Was it odd? Quite so.

“Hey, Daishou!” A woman greeted them, her customer service smile fraying a little at the edges. “Sorry about this, I know it’s –”

“Ah! Don’t mention it, I know you’re all busy,” Daishou interrupted, earning a suspicious glance from his companion that he tastefully ignored. “This is Terushima, you might’ve heard of him?”

“Oh damn, you weren’t just yanking my tail!” the woman laughed, visibly more at ease. She held a hand out for Terushima to shake. “Hi!! I’m Yui! I’m a huge fan!”

Terushima shook it, fighting his own customer service smile for a more genuine one. Yui seemed way too nice to be on the receiving end of that.

She managed to pull him into a rather informative conversation about the music genre, in fact, while she led them to a table near the back of the restaurant. By the time she’d gotten their orders, Terushima had half a mind to hire her somewhere, somehow. Hana would _love_  her.

Terushima looked around, having to turn in his seat a little. They were near a corner of the restaurant, the tables around them empty. If he’d sat at Daishou’s seat, he would’ve been able to see the whole place easily.

“Okay, so this _is_ nice,” Terushima admitted, rolling his eyes at Daishou’s smug smirk. “Hey! It’s our first date outside of house arrest, I didn’t know what to expect!”

“Don’t get used to it,” Daishou said teasingly. “Next time I was planning on paintball, your gang versus mine.”

“Next _time_?” Terushima shook his head with a smirk. “Nuh uh, I’m in charge of next time. I’m taking us to a waterpark or like, a sleazy diner in the middle of nowhere. Haven’t decided yet.”

They tossed date ideas back and forth for a while, almost pulling Yui into their discussion when she came back with their orders.

“Sorry, kids, can’t help you there,” she’d joked, checking over their orders. “All meat pasta, slice of lasagna, cheesy bacon fries to share and two coffees. I’ll bring over your desserts later, yeah?”

“Yes, thank you!”

“Thanks.”

A comfortable quiet settled over them as they focused on eating. At least until Terushima paused, smirking.

“Hey, ‘Shou,” he said, smiling wider when Daishou looked up from his lasagna. “This is really good, d’you want a bite?”

Daishou raised a brow at him. “Only if you want some of mine.”

They were just about to do a surely disastrous exchange, when Yui approached their table again. She was holding a pair of chocolate shakes, her smile just as wobbly.

“Hey there, lovebirds,” she greeted, gaze flitting from them to somewhere behind Terushima. He was a second away from turning around but something in Daishou’s tight, thin smile froze him in his seat.

“Ah, a little too early, Yui,” Daishou lamented, hands in his lap. “Is it okay if we take them to go for later? It looks like we still need a few minutes.”

“Right, yeah. Okay,” Yui said haltingly, on the verge of tears. She took a hesitant step back, glancing between Daishou and Terushima. “Are you sure –”

“We’ll be fine,” Daishou assured her, nodding to Terushima. “Aren’t we, Teru?”

“…yeah.” Terushima gave Yui a tentative smile, brows knit ever so subtly. “Yeah, we’ll be fine.”

Yui looked about as doubtful as Terushima felt, but she nodded and disappeared off into the kitchen.

“What’s up with that, Shou?” Terushima asked, full on frowning when his boyfriend actually sighed _._

“Right. I’m really sorry,” he said, gesturing with a knife that Terushima was sure he did _not_ have before. “I was hoping they’d wait until _after_ we finish eating but –” he sighed again.

“But what?” Terushima asked, a minute before he started piecing together the situation. “ _Daishou._  Tell me you fucking didn’t.”

“Again, I’m so sorry.” Daishou at least had the sense to sound apologetic. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise!”

“Dammit, fucking –” Terushima cut himself off with a huff. “I love you, but I wish you’d have at least _warned_ me _._ ”

“I’ll be sure to say so next time,” Daishou said with a grin.

“Next – oh, fuck you,” Terushima said, sticking his tongue out at him momentarily. “Next time we’re going to go skydiving, I swear. Anyway. They’re behind me, aren’t they? What do you need me to do?”

Daishou’s face bloomed into pleasant surprise, and he took his other hand from under the table to reveal a small gun.

“They’re trying to be really subtle about scaring everyone out of the restaurant,” he explained, words hurried with building adrenaline. “I’m going to need you to stay low and shoot some legs. You remember how to use this, right? We’re just about the only ones left in the joint now.”

“If I end up on the evening news today, Hana’s going to kill us both,” Terushima muttered, accepting the gun.

“Have I told you I love you? Because I do.” Daishou produced another knife from who-knows-where.

“Mhm.” Terushima nodded, just slightly worried about how fast he was getting used to holding a gun. He was still aware of who he was dating, after all.

“Just one more thing, babe.” Daishou smiled, slow and sly and eyes in little slits. He raised his arm, and Terushima tensed, ready to duck. “Catch.”

[cue epic rock music]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right so! just a bit of a message I hope y'all don't mind ahah...
> 
> I've been in the Haikyuu fandom since before the first chapters introducing Daishou Suguru and Nohebi came out. Heck, I was one of the few people who started shipping him with Terushima, and if you look at my fic history, you'll notice I've dedicated quite a lot of effort and time into writing for them.
> 
> This was one multichapter fic that I had planned more than a year ago for them, maybe even two years? And I only managed to finish it when I had already begun drifting from the pair. It's... kind of sad? But I'm happy too! That I got to write so much for this rarepair XD I'm actually pretty proud that it's been classified as 'rarepair' now instead of 'crackship'! It just feels nice, that's all.
> 
> Anyway! That's way too long of a message yikes. I don't think I'll be writing for this pair again anytime in the near future, but I hope you enjoyed what I had managed to give!!! Thank you!!

**Author's Note:**

> Will update every week, or at least will try to!
> 
> In the meantime, any thoughts? : D


End file.
